


Flashbacks

by bandfic



Category: Amazingphil - Fandom, Danisnotonfire - Fandom, Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Flashbacks, Love, M/M, Memories, Moving around, Phan - Freeform, Phanfiction, Smut, Teenagers, alternative universe, memory loss au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2018-07-16 01:43:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 43
Words: 160,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7247137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bandfic/pseuds/bandfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello! So this is set modern day, but the characters are still teenagers (16-20 ish) but imagine them as you wish.</p><p>I'll explain the premise to avoid confusion, because based off research I've found this is medically highly highly unlikely, but luckily this is fiction. Basically, Dan suffered injuries to his head (you'll learn all about how/why etc) and can't remember the past year (that's possible, people forget certain lengths of time etc) but he keeps having dreams about it, so his memories are coming back to him via dreams (this is the highly highly unlikely part) so he keeps getting memories back, but not everything. </p><p>There are my own original characters as well as obvious rp but they're not really based on the actual personalities of the real people, so don't expect them to be how they really are, like I said, this is fiction. Also, some assholes are in this fic, so just be aware of that. I tried to make people realistic, and considering each characters age and background, there had to be some pricks in here ;) </p><p>Other than that, I really hope you enjoy my story. You can also find it on wattpad, but it's better/more editted on here.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Start All Over Again

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So this is set modern day, but the characters are still teenagers (16-20 ish) but imagine them as you wish.
> 
> I'll explain the premise to avoid confusion, because based off research I've found this is medically highly highly unlikely, but luckily this is fiction. Basically, Dan suffered injuries to his head (you'll learn all about how/why etc) and can't remember the past year (that's possible, people forget certain lengths of time etc) but he keeps having dreams about it, so his memories are coming back to him via dreams (this is the highly highly unlikely part) so he keeps getting memories back, but not everything. 
> 
> There are my own original characters as well as obvious rp but they're not really based on the actual personalities of the real people, so don't expect them to be how they really are, like I said, this is fiction. Also, some assholes are in this fic, so just be aware of that. I tried to make people realistic, and considering each characters age and background, there had to be some pricks in here ;) 
> 
> Other than that, I really hope you enjoy my story. You can also find it on wattpad, but it's better/more editted on here.

_"Stop crying Phil," I say, in my fucking terrible attempt to cheer him up. He won't though. Nothing's going to cheer him up, not right now. He just needs time I suppose. "It'll be okay."_

_"Don't lie to me," Phil sobs, "It's all fucking ruined, I should never have told them."_

_"You had to," I tell him, "You know that."_

_I'm shitty at comforting people. I wish I was as good as he was, he always knows what to say and do to make everything feel as if it will be okay. I wish I had that gift. I'm just awkward and quiet. I'm probably making this worse for him. He needs a real friend around him, someone who can actually help. I'm just fucking useless._

_"No Dan," Phil cries, "I didn't. I was an idiot. I should've waited. Now it's all a mess and they all hate me-"_

_"Nobody in their right mind could hate you," I offer. Phil looks up at me and attempts a smile. He looks so... afraid? Lonely? Disappointed? All of the above._

_"You're too sweet Dan," He mutters, wiping under his eyes. I shift uncomfortably, not knowing how to really handle compliments. They just make me feel kind of embarrassed, still, that doesn't stop Phil from giving them to me every chance he gets. He's too kind though._

_"Yeah right," I mumble, rolling my eyes. I let him rest his head on my shoulder, appreciating the physical contact. I'm not a 'touchy' person (that sounds weird but you know what I mean) but when I'm sad I really like hugs. Maybe Phil will take comfort from the physical contact too._

_I gently run my hand through his hair, pushing it back off of his forehead. It always gets in his face, and the tears are making it stick._

_"Thank you Dan," He whispers. I shrug because to me it's no big deal, I'm just trying my best to be a good friend, like he is to me every single day._

I wake up cold and shaky with a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I always have weird 'dreams' like that. It hurts my head.

I get up and check my phone to see that it's only 4am, which would explain the darkness outside. I go downstairs regardless, figuring I won't get back to sleep anyway. My sleep cycle is so fucked up.

I take my medication and down a glass of cold water. It's supposed to make me feel better, but it doesn't. I don't think any medication in the world could do that. The doctors don't understand that though, nobody does.

I can't even describe how it feels to not remember. It's as if I was drunk an entire year, then woke up to not remember anything. I don't remember what I did, the things I saw and said. I can't remember what I learnt at school or who I hung around with. The only friend I remember is Cat, but that's only because I knew her before we moved to Manchester.

My entire time there, minus the first couple of months, is just gone. It's terrifying, and the worst part is that the doctors think I won't get it back. They think it could be gone for good. At first, they did try to help me remember things, they told me about the accident and how I lost my memory. They also told me about some of the basic things about myself that had changed in the past year: what school I went to, what music I listened to, what my favourite films were and how many GCSE's I had. Nothing really seemed familiar though, no matter what they tried, so they gave up on me.

Just like everyone always does.

My mum said that maybe it wasn't a completely horrible thing that I'd lost my memory, she said I could have a fresh start and try again but, I don't know why I'd need one. I think something bad must have happened, but nobody will really talk to me about it. My dad says that they didn't really know anything that was going on with me. That's kind of scary to think about too, but someone out there must know something?

It's only been happening for the past two months, but I've begun to get these...I guess you could say flashbacks? I'm not really sure what they are, but I like to think that they're memories trying to get back to me or something. It mostly happens at night when I'm dreaming, which is why my counselor thinks it's just my way of dealing with what happened, but I know better. It feels too real to be fake.

They're so similar too, almost always with the same people - people who I can't even remember existing. In the dreams, I feel as if I know them though. There's a boy called Phil, he's always there, and sometimes a boy called Chris, then there's Cat, who I really do know.

Part of me hopes that they're real, that once upon a time I did know those people and I did live that life, but who knows? They could all just be figments of my imagination, like people keep saying, it might just be my way of coping.

Recently, they've started to happen during the day too. I can be in the middle of a conversation and suddenly I'll just...drift. Or a random feeling or emotion will hit me.

My mum and dad won't really do much though, they cart me off to a counselor, toss me some meds and act like I'm good to go. They don't understand, but there's no change there. Even before the accident, they were always so fucking judgmental. You'd think nearly dying would make them care about me more, but they still treat me like I'm the same bratty teenager I once was.

I don't know what changed last year, but something must have, because I don't feel like acting the way I used to. I feel as if I'm different now, as if I've grown up or something. Maybe that's all there is to it, but who knows really? Nobody can help me. As soon as I was back on my feet, mum and dad moved me back here. I don't think my friends from Manchester, if I did have any besides Cat, really got to say goodbye.

I don't remember ever settling in there though, I only remember the first two months, where I'd awkwardly follow Cat around and try to keep my head down. It was shit having to start at a new school when I had GCSE's, I had a hell of a lot of catching up to do and even at the start I was incredibly stressed out. I don't remember what changed, but when I asked mum about it she said that I stopped caring not long after that. I wish I knew why.

"Daniel?" I hear my dad shout.

"Yeah?" I call back, putting the glass down on the counter. I look at the clock which reads 4:08am. Dad will be awake to get ready for work. He has an early start now because of the new job.

"Why are you up this early?" He asks me, standing in the kitchen doorway.

"Couldn't sleep," I mumble, "I had another weird dream-"

"Not again Daniel," He huffs, cutting me off. Like I said, they just think it's my stupid way of coping. They won't listen, so they send me off to a counselor, so that she can listen instead. I hate seeing her, and she's convinced that I don't need to anymore. Apparently, I'm fine. 

"They're getting worse," I try to explain, "They last longer now. They're different-"

"Dreams can get like that sometimes," Dad says, cutting me off again. "Stop worrying about it son. Stress always makes things worse, and there's no need for you to stress about them."

"How do you know they're not real?" I ask him before he turns around to get ready.

"I don't," He admits after a few seconds of silence, "But we're doing what we can to make them stop-"

"But what if I don't want them to stop," I snap, folding my arms. "I want to remember."

"Daniel, I know it's tough," Dad sighs, "We've had this conversation before, alright? You've got another chance. We told you how rubbish you did that year. You get to undo those mistakes. Just pretend like that year never happened Daniel. That's the easiest way." It's true, from what they showed me my school work had really gone down hill, but if I don't know why, then how can I possibly stop the same from happening again? I wouldn't know any better.

"Right," I grumble, losing my will to fight. It is ten past four in the morning, I'm not in the mood to get into a scrap with my dad over this. I feel like it's all I ever talk about with my parents, and that must really wear them down. They want to move on but I'm stuck trying to figure out what happened in the past. Neither of us are making it any easier for each other.

"You should try to get some more rest," Dad says, "School later. You don't want to be tired on your first day back. What time is PJ coming for you?"

"Eight," I grumble. PJ was my friend before I moved, he used to live on my old street and we would hang out, but then I moved up to high school and he was still in primary, so I made new friends at school. We would still talk though. Then he moved up to high school and things changed. He was cool and funny and people liked him. I was boring old Dan with no sense of humor, I liked maths and reading. Nobody really gave a shit about me. I had friends though. Now I have to go back there to repeat year 11. I'll be the oldest in my year, but at least I'll have PJ to keep me company.

I've been back in London for 6 weeks now, and he keeps coming around to see me. We talk as if I never left, just like old times. I like that, but it's weird. I feel like he doesn't really understand what happened to me, either that or he doesn't care. When I try to talk about it, he just brushes it off or ignores me. I don't know why I try to talk with him about it though. Nobody is going to understand. Even I don't understand, not properly. I have a hole in my life and it needs filling and I can't quite explain that to anybody.

The only thing I really know is that I can't find my answers here in London. If I want to fill that hole in, the answers lie somewhere deep in Manchester, but I'm fucking clueless as to where to find them. Lord knows I have to. 

-

The school building is just as I remember. It's a typical British school, old crumbling brick with about four smashed windows and a huge courtyard at both the front and back. The iron gates are open and people who I vaguely recognize are crowded around them, spilling into the front yard and some stood on the pavement out front. PJ and I walk into the front yard, standing against the brick wall lining the perimeter of the school.

PJ is his usual average self. He tells me about the classes, the people in our year, the schools system (which I already know, I've only been gone like a year) and all of that bullshit. He thinks I care about all of that, but I really couldn't give less fucks. None of it really matters to me. I passed year eleven once, I can do it again. Though, looking at my results from last year (not that I actually remember sitting my GCSE's) I only just passed. 

"Why do you even have to resit this year?" PJ asks me. It's the first thing he's asked me all morning. He spent the entire time talking about either school or himself, now we're stood outside the school, waiting for his friends to rock up. He told me all about them too, not that I'm interested in becoming friends with them. Maybe I'll have to tolerate them for these nine months though, it's better than having no friends at all.

"I don't remember anything I've learnt," I explain, "So if I went to sixth form or something, I'd not know what was going on. It would be like sending a year ten to college. I have the intellectual knowledge of a fourteen year old-"

"Fifteen," PJ corrects me.

"Still," I grumble, "I'm seventeen and they're making me fucking sit my GCSE's. It's annoying." 

"Maybe once you start doing it all again, you'll remember," PJ suggests. I want to tell him how fucking idiotic that is, but I know what he means and he's just trying to help.

At first,the doctors thought all of that might work too. They told me things about myself, made me re-watch films I'd liked from that year and took me to some places I'd been. None of it had an affect on me. I always wondered if they'd let me see some of the people I hung out with, maybe that would be more of a help. 

They never let me see anyone though. There was another boy in the accident with me. When the car crashed, he had been driving it. I must have gotten in with some older crowd or something. I don't know what happened to him, or who he was. The doctors said they couldn't tell me. My parents didn't want me to know anyway. I can't help but think something bad happened to him. The poor guy. I wonder if he remembers me?

My counselor says even if something bad did happen, that wasn't my fault. It's still scary to think about though. All of it is. There were so many people I met, that probably still remember me and I could walk past them and not have a clue who they are. People have memories with me, people who I don't even know exist, have memories with me. 

The more I think about it, the more fucked up it gets. It hasn't sunk in yet. I don't think it ever will.

"They don't think I ever will," I tell PJ, "I fucked my head up really bad. At first I couldn't remember anything, but that came back after a couple of days. They say if I was going to remember anything else, by now-"

"Don't lose hope," He shrugs, "I'd be fine in your situation, I keep a diary." Well shit, if I'd have known I was going to be a huge accident and forget an entire year of my life, maybe I'd have thought to do that too! 

"Smart," I mutter, trying to restrain myself from being a sarcastic twat. Keeping a diary obviously wasn't my top priority last year, or any year. My life is fucking boring anyway, what would I write in a diary? It would be the same everyday, it always was: 'Went to school', 'Came home', 'Did homework', 'Video games' and 'Sleep'. I'm pretty sure it will have been the same last year. 

That doesn't stop me from being curious though. How can I not be curious? Everyone I met, everything I saw, and I can't remember a thing. Maybe I never will. Everybody seems to think that way, and for some reason my parents think that's for the best. I doubt that, but I can't exactly form a valid argument when I barely remember a thing.

"I know," PJ says, "So do you want to come over to my house after school? My mum's got work so you can come over and we can whack out my new Call Of Duty-"

"Nah thanks," I mumble. There isn't a nice way to reject someone, but I don't want to hang out with him and I'm not going to say yes and be bored out of my mind just to save his feelings. He has other friends. I'll just have to make up a valid excuse as to why I don't want to go... 

"Why not?" He asks, sounding disappointed. I don't know why he's so eager to spend time with me anyway, it's not like we've spoken properly in years. We don't even have all that much in common anymore either, it isn't like when we were younger. Little kids will hang out with anybody, it didn't matter back then. People change.

"Homework and stuff," I shrug, "I just wanna go home and chill out you know?" It's not like I'm lying to him, is it?

"Oh," He mutters, "What about tomorrow?" I see the hopeful expression on his face. 

"Maybe," I say. I don't want to kill all of his hope. I suppose I can't exactly get mad at him for trying. If it wasn't for him, I'd be alone. Maybe it's only fair that I spend a bit of time with him in return.

Shit, well I'll see how I feel about that tomorrow. My tolerance for people like PJ really depends on my mood. 

"Fuck yeah," PJ says, smiling, "I have the new Ghosts DLC maps too. We can split screen!" 

"Cool," I say, trying to force some form of enthusiasm into my voice. I like video gaming, I'm just not 100% sure I like PJ yet. I guess he might grow on me, but he's a bit full on sometimes, and he can be kind of self centered, he really likes talking about himself. 

"PEEEEJ!" Some knob shouts from behind us. We both turn. PJ shouts something back and the kid approaches. He looks like he's barely started puberty. He's about 5'4 at the most, and wears small glasses that look like they belong on a seven year old. His hair is ginger and curly and sits on his head like a fucking bowl. I want to laugh, but it's not even funny, it's just cringe-worthy.

Another boy is behind him, this one looks more his own age and is actually pretty good looking. He's hit puberty at least. He has deep brown eyes and tousled dirty blonde hair. His jawline is pretty good and he's about PJ's height. He smiles at me, unlike his twelve year old friend.

"Hi," The not bad looking one says. 

"Hi," I say. 

"This is Dan," PJ tells them. 

"We know," The ginger one scoffs, "You've only told us about him twenty fucking times-"

"Shut up you knob jockey," PJ spits back. I smirk. "Dan, this is Clarky." The ginger one, 'Clarky' waves at me.

"That's not my actual name," Clarky says. Wow, I hadn't guessed? Who the fuck curses a child with a name like Clarky? "I'm Will Clark, but it's either Willy or Clarky." Talk about unfortunate...

"Who are you then?" I ask the 'decent' one.

"Connor," He says. "It's nice to meet you. Peej told us about what happened to your head." 

"What?" I ask. It doesn't surprise me, I bet half the school will know, but I want to know what he said.

"You were in a crash and you forgot who you were," Connor says. 

"I was in a crash," I tell him, "But I only can't remember the past year of my life. I know who I am." 

"Oh right," Connor says, "That must be shit. Sorry." 

"Thanks," I mumble, not entirely comfortable with the topic. I struggle talking about it with my counselor. I definitely don't want to talk about it with three lads I barely know.

"That's wank mate," Clarky gasps. I shrug. "So Dan, have you got a bird?" 

"You what?" I scoff. 

"You have a girlfriend?" Clarky repeats, this time in actual English. I can't stand the phrase 'bird', like is this kid twelve? Probably.

"I've just moved back here," I say, "I don't really know any girls my age." 

"Fuck me mate," Clarky snorts. I hope he doesn't mean that literally. "There's some banging chicks here." 

"There are like two," Connor corrects him. I grimace. I've only known these people five minutes and already they've brought up two of my least favourite topics: girls and the crash. I can just tell that these lads are going to be stereotypical as fuck. 

"More than two," PJ puts in, "Maybe like ten." 

"Half of which have been shagged by the entire year," Connor scoffs, "I don't want someone who's been on half my forms cock, thanks very much." Okay, so maybe Connor seems okay.

"Don't you think Mac is fit?" PJ asks Connor. Connor shakes his head and makes a puking sound.

"Who's Mac?" I ask, curious about what's so gross about her. I'm not exactly interested in girls, they're not my top priority right now, and especially none here. They're all a year younger than me, I wouldn't dare go there, but I might as well go along with PJ and his friends for now.

"Look left," PJ says, "She's walking over." I turn and look. There are lots of people, so how the fuck am I supposed to know which is Mac? 

"Connor!" One girl calls. That's probably Mac. She's walking this way, grinning ear to ear. She's pretty actually. I don't know what Connor's seeing. She looks older than most girls her age, probably due to her decent figure and massive tits, but she has a cute face too. Her cheekbones are sharp giving her a strong complexion and unlike 90% of the girls here, she obviously has the ability to apply make up. Her hair is shoulder length and dyed a deep blue, almost navy. 

"She's gorgeous," I scoff. Connor rolls his eyes.

"You sound as pathetic as Clarky," He groans. I blush. Now that's degrading, being compared to a small ginger kid that looks about twelve. I wonder why Connor doesn't like her? She seems to like him.

"Hi," She says, standing in between me and PJ. "Are you Dan?"

"Yeah," I say, forcing a smile. I hold up my hand in an awkward wave type thing. 

"I'm Mackenzie" She says, smiling. "You lost your memory, right?" 

"Something like that," I mutter. She makes a sympathetic 'aw' sound, then turns to face Connor.

"I got the GTA mod by the way," She snaps at him, "So you can cut the superiority bullshit. We're fucking racing tonight. One V one." 

"Fine," Connor scoffs, "I win anyway. Enhanced speed or not." 

"Enhanced speed really helps though," Clarky puts in. 

"I'm a fucking boss-" The bell rings, cutting him off. Damn, it's a fucking annoying sound. I don't think I'll get used to that again. 

"Do you remember your way around?" PJ asks me. I nod. 

"I need to get my timetable from reception," I say, "Come with me? I don't want to be late on my own." 

"Any excuse to be late," PJ says, "You coming lads?" 

"Yeah," They all respond. PJ leads the way in, I follow and Clarky, Connor and Mackenzie stick behind me. I walk into the doors again, a feeling of nostalgia washing over me. 

I haven't been here for over a year. I never thought I'd walk through these doors again. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. I should be in college, in Manchester, with Cat and any other friends I had. 

But maybe this is for the best. Or maybe it happened for a reason. That's just one more thing on the long list of things I'll never know.


	2. So, It Begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi lovelies,   
> I haven't decided on a proper schedule for this, but it should be a couple of times a week (maybe more, maybe less) definitely at least once. I hope you enjoy it & feedback is always always appreciated!

I get back in from school at about four. I expect my parents to be there, sat waiting and ready to ask me fifty questions about how my day was. They can be fussy like that.

Not today though. They're obviously working. I dump my bag in front of the door and go into the living room. I slump on the leather couch and stare at the blank TV screen for about five minutes before deciding that I'm hungry as fuck.

I go into the kitchen. It's bigger than our old one, but I like it less. There's a breakfast bar in the middle of the room, taking up space, and the dark wood cupboards are much less homey. 

I get a bowl of cereal, standing there and eating it. Moving takes effort that I just don't have right now. Instead I just stare at the wall. It's full of photographs from when I was younger. The most recent photo is from last year, it's the only photo I've been shown of last year, and I can't remember anything about it. It's just me on my own, and I'm smiling up at the camera like an idiot, wearing some dumb glasses that don't belong to me. 

I'm still stood in front of the wall when I get a sudden dizzy feeling. I feel light headed and faint. The room feels as though it's spinning. Or maybe I'm spinning. I can't tell. My eyelids begin to feel heavy and I grip the work top, trying to keep myself up right, but my fingers won't grip and my eyes can't focus on the edge quickly enough. The panic hits me. This has never happened before. 

And that's the last thing I think before I slump against the cupboard door and pass out.

-

_"Cat are you sure they'll like me?" I ask her for at least the fourth time. She's insisting on introducing me to her friends, they're older than us, they don't go to our school. I'm scared they're going to look down their nose at me or think I'm young and stupid. I act old for my age, but people who say that just get mocked._

_"They like me," She shrugs, "Honestly Dan, chill out. They're not horrible, they're nice. If I thought you'd hate them I wouldn't introduce you."_

_"Do they even know I'm coming?" I ask. It doesn't feel right. We're going over to this guy's apartment. His name is Chris, he doesn't live far from me and Cat actually, but he's three years older or something. I've never really had any friends older than me. Most of my friends back home were my own age, or younger._

_"Of course," She says, "They're excited to meet you. They think it's cool that you move around a lot."_

_"I don't," I scoff. I've been back and forth between London and Manchester my whole life. I was born in London, but we moved down here while I was a baby, then we went back when I turned five. We came back up often enough to see my family, plus I got to see Cat again each time, but it wasn't the same as living here. Now, and oh-so conveniently, we've moved back here, right as I'm doing my fucking GCSE's. Could the timing be any worse?_

_"I know," Cat says, "It's level seven." We get into the lift and I press the 7 button. The lift stinks of piss, so I'm grateful this guy only lives seven floors up. I don't think my nasal passages would cope 15 floors in this tiny, urine infected box._

_His apartment is directly across from the lift. Cat knocks. I wait awkwardly by her side until a tall, awkward looking man opens the door._

_"Cat!" He exclaims, "And you're Dan, yeah?" I nod awkwardly. I look him up and down, trying to size him up. He's skinny and average height with messy hair and a forced a smile, I note his Waluigi tee shirt too, that's kind of funny. He looks like the type of person I'd hang out with I suppose._

_"Hi," I mumble. He looks nice enough, and considering I only have Cat, I'm not in the position to turn down friends right now._

_"I'm Chris," He says, holding his hand out. I stare down at it. Does he want me to shake his hand? I look back up at him. He sees me and awkwardly withdraws his hand. Fucking hell, that's embarrassing. So much for good first impressions._

_"Nice to meet you," I chime, trying to ease the awkward air. He smiles and steps to the side, holding the door open for us. Cat walks inside and I follow her in. Chris shuts the door behind us. I take a second to look around and take in the flat. It's just a typical flat though really, no fancy interior design or anything. Just very basic open plan room, the living area in the middle and then a desk pushed up against one wall, with the kitchen area opposite, then three doors along the back wall. I'm not complaining, it looks decent enough. Plus, I can't help but notice his large games collection on the bookshelf in the corner. Now that I can respect._

_"Can I get you anything to drink?" Chris asks, smiling. I shake my head and sit down awkwardly on the couch, where Cat has flopped down, resting her feet against the arm._

_"Coke please Chris," Cat calls to him, "Do you have anything to eat? I'm starving as well. Miss Matthews, the bitch, made us stay behind at dinner. I couldn't get anything."_

_"I've got some crisps," Chris shrugs, "You sure you don't want anything Dan?"_

_"I'm fine," I tell him._

_"You can take your bag off," He snorts, "Cat just throws her shit everywhere here. You can do the same, just make yourself at home mate." I appreciate that, but there's no way I could bring myself to act so chilled out around people I barely know. I take my school bag off and dump it by my feet. It's all bulky because I shoved my tie and blazer in, hoping I'd look older without them. I leave my shoes on, unlike Cat, who kicks hers off, sending her Clarkes flats flying across the room._

_"When's Phil coming?" Cat asks him, "Does he have work again?"_

_"No," Chris says, "He got fired, remember?" They both laugh, I guess it's some sort of inside joke. "I think he's just late. You know Phil."_

_"Are his parents still being assholes?" Cat asks. Ah, so me and Phil have something in common - asshole parents._

_"Yep," Chris sighs, "Sorry Dan, you don't have a clue what we're talking about do you?"_

_"Phil's asshole parents?" I say, smirking. Chris chuckles._

_"They're worse than yours Dan," Cat says, "Like, they really hate me and Chris. No one's parents are exactly fans of mine, but Phil's despise me." My parents hate Cat too, but only because they overheard her swearing one time and now they think she's going to destroy all of my life and potential. They have no idea I swear like a fucking sailor, and if they caught me they'd only blame Cat for it._

_"Why?" I snort, "What did you do?"_

_"She bought him gay anime for his birthday," Chris sneers, tossing a can of coke over. It almost hits me, but Cat happens to be good at catching, and she's got it before it can do harm. "Sorry mate."_

_"Did you actually?" I gasp. It isn't that shocking. Cat bought me a box of condoms, then when I opened the box (not to use one, obviously) she'd taken them all out and left a folded up booklet on 'Jesus and sexual intercourse' which gave an in depth explanation as to why sex out of wedlock is such a sin. It was funny, but not something I'd want my parents to see._

_"It wasn't that gay," Cat shrugs, "There were only two gay characters, and it's not like they have sex until like, the end-"_

_"Cat's not the best gift buyer in the world," I say, giggling._

_"I am," Cat protests, "Chris I got you-"_

_"Don't remind me," Chris groans, dramatically slamming his hand down on the kitchen counter. I laugh. He comes over and flops down on the arm chair. "I guess Phil can sit on the floor today."_

_"Am I in his spot?" I ask. I don't want to intrude or anything._

_"Don't worry," Chris giggles, "He'll get over it. It's not his space. Sometimes Cat takes up two." I laugh at that. Maybe these people aren't so bad. I reckon they could be nice, I can see why Cat likes Chris so much._

_"Fuck off," Cat chuckles, "I like to lay out. Don't shame me for that you wank-eaters."_

_"Wank-eaters?" I scoff, "That's a new one. I've heard dick-splash, ball-sniffer, cock-face, even anus-ripper, but never a wank-eater."_

_"I'm expanding my creative vocabulary," Cat informs us, smirking, "I'm waiting for the chance to use nip-biter and bellend-bouncer."_

_"I like them," Chris says, "Problematic, yeah, but very creative."_

_"It's not that problematic," Cat protests, "They're not really insults, not all the time... just cute little nicknames."_

_"Wank-eater isn't the cutest nickname I've ever heard," I point out, "Surely you and your genius mind can come up with something more-"_

_"Logical?" Chris puts in. I giggle. Cat rolls her eyes, but she's smirking too. It can't really be a serious conversation, we've referred to male genitalia too much for that._

_"Yeah, can you eat wank?" I ask. I personally feel that it's an important question, but before anyone can answer someone is knocking at the door._

_"Come on in," Chris yells. The door opens, and in walks who I assume is Phil. He's just how Cat described him, only Cat failed to mention just how attractive he was. She said that he was 'okay', I think that's a bit of an understatement. He's got dark hair that falls over his fringe in an awkward side fringe and a_

_"Hi," Phil says, flicking his shoes off and closing the door, "Hi Dan!"_

_"Hi," I mumble. "Phil, right?"_

_"Yep," He says, smiling. He goes over to the fridge and gets out a can of coke, then he goes and sits on the floor, leaning against the sofa in between where Cats legs are now hanging down. "Sorry I was late. You know what mums like."_

_"You're eighteen," Cat moans, "Why does she still treat you like a twelve year old."_

_"She just worries," Phil says, "So, did I miss anything?"_

_"Cat was telling us her new nicknames," I tell him, smiling._

_"Anus-ripper is my personal favorite," Chris says, smirking. Cat and I laugh. Phil just smirks. He's got a nice smile actually, he looks really pretty. I should probably stop thinking that stuff though, I actually want to be friends with these people and the last thing I need is to start fancying one of them. They seem nice, and that's rare. I'm surprised at how comfortable I feel around them, compared to how I usually act around new people I'm doing pretty well._

_"You never answered my question," I chime, remembering, "Can you eat wank?" They all burst out laughing, knowing my question isn't serious. It makes for a good conversation point though._

_"You can eat the after math of a wank," Cat points out. Phil spits out his coke, making me and Chris laugh even harder._

_"You can't actually eat a wank though," Phil says, giggling, "Wanking is an action, not a thing. You could eat a dick. I think."_

_"Ever tried Philly?" Chris asks, smirking. Cat flings a pillow at him. Chris throws it right back. "I'm kidding."_

_"You'd have to cut it off first-" Phil continues._

_"Let's not go into the technicalities of eating a dong," Cat pleads. I'm still laughing at what Chris said, and Phil still seems amused by it._

_"We don't usually talk about eating dicks," Chris reassures me, "This isn't how our hang outs usually go down-"_

_"It is," Phil cuts in, "This is the tamest I've seen Cat in weeks-"_

_"Fuck off," She snorts._

_"I don't mind," I shrug, "Dick eating isn't the worst conversation I've had today, believe it or not."_

_"At least now you'll never forget our first conversation," Phil says, chuckling. I grin at him, he isn't wrong. "So Dan, Cat said that you moved up and down a lot. That's cool-"_

_"No," I cut him off. Home isn't something I want to talk about, or even think about really. "I stayed in London most of my life. We came back up here once a year. Now my dad has a new job here. It's annoying really, moving when I have so much going on at school."_

_"Aw no," Chris snorts, "Fuck school. I got like three GCSE's and I'm doing fine." I wish I could have that frame of mind, but I can't. Mum and Dad have put pressure on me for so long to do well. I can't just betray that, can I? They want the best and I can't let them down._

_"School's shit," Cat grunts, "I keep trying to convince Dan to skive with me. He's such a pussy."_

_"Skiving is funny as fuck," Chris says, "I proper miss those days. Make the most of them." Cat is nodding away at him. Phil is staring at the floor. "Phil didn't skive either. He was such a teachers pet-"_

_"So is Dan," Cat tells them. I feel my face heat up and I stare down, letting my hair fall in front of my face. I'm not really a teachers pet, I'm just respectful. I have to do well, I don't want my teachers to hate me. Cat just tells any teacher who tells her off to fuck off, but that's just not my way of doing things._

_"Well at least I got more than three GCSE's," Phil argues. I smile at him. Hopefully I'll be able to say that one day._

_"Yeah but you still can't get a job," Chris jabs, "You're no better of than me mate."_

_"I'm at college though," Phil says, "A-levels are more important."_

_"You want to go to Uni?" I ask Phil, just out of curiosity. He grins at me then nods._

_"It's the only way I'll get out of here," Phil says, "I think it'll be fun."_

_"Oh yeah," Cat scoffs, "Leaving me and Chris here to rot? That will be a barrel of laughs for you won't it?"_

_"I'm not doing it to leave you," Phil protests. I have a feeling I've hit a sore patch. I didn't mean for them to start anything, I was just curious is all. I want to go to Uni too. Not many people around me have ever really aspired to do something with their lives, they're just happy to take what's given to them. I can't be like that._

_"You're going to leave though aren't you?" Chris asks quietly. The room falls silent. I think that's partly my fault. Maybe I should stop asking questions, they're not exactly leading to the best of conversations._

_"Can I get that drink now please Chris?" I ask suddenly, deciding to divert the topic._

_"Yeah, help yourself-"_

"Dan!" I wake with a start.

My head is pounding and my legs are shaking. Oh shit. 

That was no dream. No way. It felt real. As if I was there, as if I was with them, sat in that living room, joking and laughing and asking. Was I? Maybe once upon a time, I was. I had to be. 

Those aren't dreams or nightmares. I know it, even if no one will believe me. Those are fucking memories! They have to be.

"Dan," My mum is knelt by my side, "What happened love? Are you alright?"

"What?" I mumble, still dizzy and confused. 

"What happened?" She repeats, clutching my shoulder, "Did you bang your head?" 

"No," I mutter, though I might have, I'm not really sure. "I'm fine. I just... I think I passed out." 

"I found you like this sweetie," Mum says, her face crinkled with concern, "I've only been in five minutes." 

"Shit," I whisper to myself.

"Language," She hisses. I roll my eyes. Really? She's still lecturing me about language, even now? That was understandable when I was like, thirteen or something. Surely she knows I swear, what normal functioning seventeen year old doesn't?

"I had another flashback-" I try to tell her. Once again, they're having none of it. 

"They're dreams," She insists, as if she'd know. I can't fucking believe this. "That's all Dan. Now, what's the last thing you remember? Did you take your pills, love?" 

"Yeah," I huff, "I remember coming home and then I went into the kitchen. It was maybe like, almost half four or something. I don't know, I must have fainted." 

"For two hours?" She sneers, raising her eyebrows. I hitch myself up better, blinking and shaking my head. Two hours? I look at the clock above the door. It says six thirty. Fuck. 

"Oh," I mumble, rubbing my head. 

"Maybe you need a nap," She huffs, "I'll ring your dad. We'll ring doctor Kahn if we have to." 

"I'm fine," I sigh, climbing up. I get myself a glass of water and down it. 

"You can't keep having these weird dreams Daniel," Mum says, "It's not normal. Me and your dad were talking about it, you know, we think you need to be taking something else. I don't think those meds are doing much." 

"It's not the meds," I try to tell her, "They're not dreams-" 

"And how would you know?" She snaps, folding her arms. "You don't remember anything, do you Daniel? They're just dreams, as much as you might want to believe them, they just aren't real." 

"They are!" I yell. She doesn't fucking get it! Why does no one ever believe me? Why don't they just accept that I'm starting to remember things, even if it is in a weird way. 

"Dan, I know this is hard for you, for us-" She begins. I don't want to hear that bullshit speech again. I've heard it forty times and it's still not making this any easier. It's not going to convince me that my flashbacks are dreams. They're not. I know it. They're memories. They have to be!

"I know they're real," I snap, "Why can't you believe me?" 

"The doctors said that it was almost impossible," Mum sighs, "You won't remember that year again, not properly. It's probably for the best Dan-"

"Who's Chris?" I ask her. If he was real, she'd know. I'd tell her about my friends, even if they didn't know much about them, I'd never lie about their names. If they're real, she'll know.

Her face says it all. Her mouth slams shut and her face drains of colour.

"I don't know," She says, "You've never mentioned a Chris before. Dan, you probably made him up. He's a figment of your imagination, there to help you come to terms with the accident." 

"I want to see Cat," I say, "I want to go and see Cat-"

"No," She doesn't even think about it. Just like last time I tried to have this conversation with her, she didn't want to hear it. Dad's just as bad. They think they know what's best. "You're not seeing that girl anymore. She's bad news, always has been-"

"I need to!" I protest. Talking to Cat is going to give me more closure than anyone else can. I can ask her about Chris and Phil. She'll tell me they're real. They have to be. Mum just knows that if Cat tells me the truth, I'll know that mum was lying for definite. If I could prove that mum and dad were keeping things from me on purpose, I'd never speak to either one of them again. 

I've always had a feeling they know more than they're letting on, they just don't want me to find out. They want the old Dan back. He's gone. He died in that accident, I think, or maybe it was before that, but at this rate I'll never know.

I need answers, and if mum won't give them to me, I'll find someone who will.


	3. Discovery

I wake up Tuesday morning with a feeling that something is different. It takes me a couple of minutes to realize that last night is the first night in a while that I haven't had a flashback. 

If that's what they are.

They're rarely as vivid as the one I had in the kitchen yesterday, that was kind of freaky really. I can't stop thinking about it, about them all. Most of the 'dreams' aren't that long, they're just tiny snippets of conversations with people I can't even name or remember, but the recurring people such as Cat and this 'Chris' and 'Phil' are what keep me hanging onto the idea that they are real. They must be! I mean, I'm hardly the most imaginative person in the world, so the idea that I'm creating these stories and conversations and people is just ridiculous, but nobody believes that. 

"Any weird dreams last night Daniel?" Dad asks me at breakfast. I shake my head, biting into my toast. I'm not really listening, I'm too busy thinking about Chris and Phil. I'm curious now, my head is burning with questions. I need to speak to Cat. I just don't know how.

"The medication might be starting to take effect," Mum says, putting another plate of toast down on the table, "I still think you need to be taking something else though." 

"I'll ring the doctors later," Dad says.

"There isn't much point love," Mum replies, "He has his appointment on Saturday, he can talk to the doctor about it then, can't you Daniel?" 

"Do I have to go?," I mutter, my voice robotic. I don't like my new doctor very much, but six weeks isn't long to get comfortable with someone that you're supposed to tell everything.

"It's important you attend these sessions, Daniel," Dad explains, rolling his eyes at me, "You need to get a better understanding of what's happening in your mind." I grit my teeth.

"You don't have a clue what's happening in my mind," I say, bordering on fully snapping at them. I wouldn't do that though, not at this time, and I can't be bothered arguing with them about it all again. We've had the same conversation countless times, and the result is always the same - they just don't listen to me. "Only I know-"

"Are you nearly done with your breakfast?" Mum asks me, cutting me off in the most casual tone possible, "PJ will be here soon. You don't want to be late." 

"I'm not going to be late," I sigh. I stuff the rest of my slice of toast into my mouth anyway. It's another excuse not to talk. I run into the hall, put my shoes and jacket on and then grab my bag.

It must be some sort of weird mum-telekinetic thing, but how ever she knew, mum was right about PJ being almost here. PJ knocks on the door as soon as my bag is round my shoulder, and we set off to school.

Mum wasn't right about us being late, thankfully, and we're stood outside school with ten minutes left to spare. Clarky and Connor are already there today. Mackenzie is nowhere to be seen. 

"Can you fuck off with your Harry Potter bullshit-" Connor is saying to Clarky as we approach. I have a feeling we're walking into the conversation at the wrong time.

"I'm just saying," Clarky says, "More people need to appreciate Ron for his wonderful-"

"You only fucking like him 'cos he's a ginger," Connor groans. I laugh at that, it's funnier without having the context of the rest of the conversation. 

"Let's not bring colour into this," Clarky protests.

"Fuck off with that," PJ scoffs, "Ginger is not a race you dense sh-"

"I'm not fucking ginger," Clarky argues passionately, "I'm strawberry blonde!" The argument on a whole was entertaining, but that comment just takes the cake. Will Clarke is probably one of the most ginger people I've ever seen. 

"This is a common debate," Connor tells me once I've stopped laughing, "Get used to it." Does that mean they want me to stick around? I appreciate that to be honest.

It's at that moment I notice Mackenzie walking up behind Clarky, grinning. She must have heard part of the conversation because as soon as she's stopped she says:

"I think you're more of a Moroccan sunset," She says it lightly to Clarky, smirking and twiddling her navy hair around one finger. 

"Stop romanticizing gingers," Connor snorts, "It's fucking ginger."

"It's not even ginger," Clarky insists. I wonder if he genuinely believes he's strawberry blonde. He seems to be very passionate about the matter. 

"Believe what you want to mate," I tell him, smirking slightly. "But there's nothing wrong with being ginger-"

"I'm not!" He practically screeches. We all have to laugh at that. He's being slightly over dramatic. I make a mental note never to call him ginger again.

"Yeah," Peej agrees, "You're more of a clementine shade." Mack nudges him playfully and Clarky grumbles something rude under his breath. 

"Can we nip to my locker before lesson?" Mackenzie asks, changing the topic tactfully. 

"Yeah," Clarky says a bit too eagerly. 

"Come on then ginge," She says to him, smirking. He looks like he's going to say something back, but then he shuts his mouth and follows her to the doors. I haven't got a locker this year, the year group is over capacity, so I suppose in future I'll have to make use of Mack's. 

"Do you have any chewing gum?" Connor asks PJ, who shakes his head. Connor groans.

"My breath fucking stinks," He sighs. 

"I can't smell it," I reassure him. He smiles at me gratefully and then turns to PJ.

"Are you coming online tonight? I fucking thrashed Mack last night, bitch thought she could beat me," He says. 

"I dunno," PJ replies, "Dan, did you say you could come over to mine tonight?" 

"Uh," I can't say no this time. He looks so hopeful, smiling at me like he's actually happy to be around me. I can't say no. I'd feel too guilty, he's taking me in as a friend when he doesn't have to. It's only right that I make an effort too, even if I don't want to as much as he does. "I think so. I'll have to text my mum but yeah." 

"Great," He explodes, smiling ear to ear. I smile back. "Connor you can come too, just don't tell Clarky or Mack." 

"We'll have a lads night, yeah?" Connor says, just as eagerly. They're both smiling at me as if they want me to respond. I just nod along. I don't really recall ever having 'lads nights'. It's not my style really, but I'll have to give it a go, maybe it's better than it sounds.

"Sounds good," I mutter. "Straight after school?" 

"Why not?" PJ shrugs, smiling. 

So that's what we do. 

At half past three we meet up outside the school gates. We bullshit to Clarky and tell him we've just got to do some maths homework. Mack goes off with her girl friends so we don't have to lie to her. I don't know why they have to lie anyway, it's not like we're doing anything wrong. Maybe they'll just be offended if we're doing something without them.

"Just don't put anything on Facebook or Twitter," PJ says, "Clarky will throw a fit if he finds out we didn't invite him." 

"Why didn't you invite him?" I ask, curious. Maybe leaving Clarky out is a regular thing for them. They don't seem to like him that much, but that's just banter. I can't exactly get a clear picture after one day of hanging out with them. They seem to like me so far though, I think. 

"He's a bit of knob," Connor says flatly, "I mean he's alright, he just gets a bit much. And Mack is all fun too but she's just annoying and bitchy after a while-"

"It's only because she fancies you," PJ scoffs at him. Connor rolls his eyes. The feeling must not be mutual.

"Just don't put in online," Connor says, getting back to the point and ignoring PJ's comment. 

"I don't have any social media sites," I tell them, "So don't worry about that." 

"Really?" Connor gasps. He sounds so shocked, like that's something rare. It is these days I suppose. I was never allowed them, my mum always said they caused too much trouble, and to be fair I was never that bothered. I don't see much point to them, personally. "How do you stay in touch with all the people you leave behind when you move around?" 

"I don't," I say simply. "I just text and stuff." I haven't stayed in touch with anyone this time though, not even Cat. Not a call, not a text. Nothing. Mum bought me a new phone after the crash, dad said my old one was destroyed in the collision apparently. I've lost whatever was on it. I never got a chance to really get anyone's number before I left. I wasn't allowed to see anyone to try.

"That must suck," PJ sighs, "If you got Facebook you could find all your old mates. They might know stuff about your year, like they could tell you stuff-"

"I don't remember any of them to ask," I huff, "There's only Cat, and she never bothered with social media either." 

"That's a shame," PJ says, "You could still try though." 

"Maybe," I mumble. It's worth a look I suppose. Maybe if I can find out the last names of the people in my flashbacks (or 'dreams' as mum would say) then I can find one of them. What harm could it do?

-

When we get to PJ's, his mum and dad are at work still. He shoves some pizza's in the oven and we go up to his room, where we sit on his gaming consoles.

"So have you seen any fit girls yet Dan?" PJ asks me when it's Connors turn on the game. We're playing the new Call of Duty and we can't get the split screen to work right. Or that's PJ's excuse anyway. I reckon he's just wank at split screening...

"Not really," I shrug, "Not that I'm looking. I'm not into younger girls."

"You wouldn't want the ones at that school anyway," Connor cuts in. He's not wrong there.

"Any girl who's from around here is an instant no," PJ agrees, laughing. "Except Mack. You're lying if you say you wouldn't bang that."

"I wouldn't," I counter, "Honestly, she's pretty but she's not my type - too young." Too female. I push that thought away as soon as it enters my mind.

"I wouldn't either," Connor scoffs, "She's proper funny and stuff and I do like her but she's way too talkative and typical. She thinks she's proper different because she has navy hair and listens to Fall Out Boy." 

"Most girls are like that now," I say, "They wear a choker and think they're indie queens." Connor laughs. 

"So you're not into anyone?" PJ asks me, raising his eyebrows. I shake my head. There's no one, and how could I have really noticed in one day of being back there? It's not like I've spent my time back here spying out attractive girls. They've never exactly been a priority for me.

"Nope," I confirm, "In my twelve hours back at school, I have not yet found a female that I'd like to stick-"

"Fine, okay, whatever," PJ snorts, "I get it. You're not here for the pus-"

"Say the word pussy and I'll shove this controller so far down your throat you'll never say anything again you prick," Connor bursts out suddenly. I begin laughing at that. I'm grateful to Connor actually, someone needs to stop the PJ's of the world saying vulgar as fuck words like that. I can't stand it.

"Fuck off," PJ protests, "You've said the P word too before." 

"Only when I'm mocking you and Clarky for it," Connor shrugs, "That's different. The word is revolting and it's completely ruined cats for me." 

"You said it again though," PJ points out. 

"You're spending too much time with Clarky, that's your problem," Connor huffs, shaking his head. There's a pause, only filled by my awkward giggling. I enjoy listening in on conversations like this, they're so completely ridiculous yet lads seem to take this stuff so serious.

"Do you like Clarky?" I ask them, curious. Maybe I'm missing something, maybe he's one of those pity friends or something.

"He's alright," Connor says, "Why?" It wasn't exactly the response I expected, but I'm not sure I knew what to expect at all. They're probably not going to pour their hearts out about how much they hate him even if they did, considering I've only spent two days hanging around with them. Maybe they think I'm prying.

"You just seem to..." I don't know how to phrase it without being offensive, "I don't know, but like you didn't invite him tonight and you call him names and I just thought, you know, maybe you just let him tag along or something-"

"Your observational skills aren't half bad are they?" PJ scoffs. I gulp. Wait, does that mean I'm right?

"It's not that we don't like him, not at all," Connor explains, "I grew up with him, we were best mates in primary school. He's just a bit of a prick sometimes." 

"We like him though," Peej reassures me, "He's a nice guy. He can be funny and I mean he's fun to take the piss out of. He gets a bit much when you hang out with him all the time though." 

"I can imagine," I say, "I'm not judging you or anything, I was just curious. He seems like a tag along." I don't want them to think I'm prying into them or trying to analyse them or anything like that. It's nothing like that at all. I'm just curious. 

"He isn't a tag along," PJ says, however he sounds unsure. 

"Mack is the tag along," Connor scoffs. He puts the controller down and I look at the TV to see that his game is over. His kills to deaths ratio is 17:2 and I'm not going to lie, I'm slightly impressed by that.

"Mackenzie isn't a tag along," PJ protests, "She's nice. Just because-" 

"Shouldn't those pizza's be done by now?" Connor suddenly pipes up, distracting us all. My stomach rumbles at the idea of a pizza, though I'd kind of forgotten about food now. I was finding the conversation really interesting. I kind of like learning about PJ and his friends.

"Fuck sake," PJ groans, jumping up from the bed. He opens the bedroom door and shoots out, hopefully going to bring us those pizzas.

"Mackenzie seems nice," I say to Connor, trying to keep the conversation on track. 

"She is nice," Connor mumbles. "Are you going to go on the game? It's your turn." He picks the controller up and holds it out to me.

"No thanks," I say, "Let PJ go on it." Connor and PJ are both really good, I don't want to be shit and then embarrass myself.

"Don't you want to try it?" He asks me, putting the control back down. I shrug. I'm not too bothered, I prefer games with proper plots and tasks rather than shooting games. I'm better at Sonic and Super Mario to be honest.

"Not right now," I reply, "You were really good by the way. Impressive." He smiles at the compliment.

"Don't tell PJ but I got the game last week and I've been practicing since," Connor whispers, despite being only a meter away from me and the fact PJ is downstairs, and I know too well that PJ's hearing isn't that good. 

"Why are you whispering?" I chuckle, shaking my head at him. He shrugs and smirks at me.

"If you're not having your turn I'll take it for you," Connor states, his volume returning to normal. 

"Knock yourself out," I say, but then I add, "Not literally." 

"Thanks for clarifying," He snorts, grabbing the controller. He comes over and sits on the bed beside me, facing the TV. I watch the screen, keen to see how he so tactfully runs around the map, shooting people on site and attacking anyone who's unfortunate enough to cross his path. I envy his skill, he makes it look easy. 

"How are you so good at that?" I ask, curious. Maybe it's because of my slow reactions and spaghetti fingers, I'm not sure why, but I've always been shit at shooting games. It takes me forever to get to grips with them, and even then I struggle to get a good kill streak. It's not that I'm bad, it's just that everyone else seems to be better.

"Practice I suppose," He mumbles, not taking his eyes off of the TV. "Are you any good?" 

"Not really," I admit, embarrassed at first. He doesn't seem to mind though, he just smiles at me, glancing over briefly before turning his attention back to the game in front of him. "I'm better at racing games and stuff." 

"Everyone is good at something," Connor says, "Everyone is bad at something." I can't disagree with that logic. At least he isn't taking the piss out of me. 

"What are you bad at?" I ask him. He seems like the type to excel in all areas. I recall him talking about GTA with Mack, he said he won, so I assume he's good at that sort of thing. Maybe he is good at all games, some people are just naturally skilled like that.

"I always sucked at the classics," Connor confesses, "I used to always want to play what all the other boys my age did, you know, when I was a kid, it was all Zelda and Mario and that. I was shit so my mum used to buy me the zombie games and the war games instead." We're opposite then, I was always great at that sort of thing. There's no wonder he's so good at playing though. People who focus on one area are absolutely brilliant in that area, but shit at others. That's probably Connor's situation.

"I'm great at all that stuff," I say, "We should teach each other." I didn't really mean it, I was just suggesting it to make it look like I was trying. I was simply making conversation, without thinking about what it meant. Connor doesn't see it that way though. He looks over at me and smiles, a proper big smile. 

"Yeah," He agrees, "We should, I've always wanted to learn." I don't mind that he wants to, at least now I know he doesn't dislike me or anything. Plus, it could actually help me - there isn't much that I wouldn't give to thrash PJ at Battlefield.

"Pizza!" We hear PJ before we see him. His feet banging against what I presume are stairs, before he comes barging back into the bedroom, balancing three trays on his arms like a professional waiter.

I take a tray from him and sit back on the bed eating whilst PJ and Connor take turns on the game, making conversation and having banter back and forth between us. That's how we go on for the rest of the night, and to be honest I have a pretty good time. They aren't bad really.

When I get home it's just turned eight, and mum and dad are waiting expectantly in the living room. "Did you have a good time? Are PJ's friends nice to you? What did you have to eat?" Mum asks before I've even taken my shoes off. 

"It was okay," I shrug, "His friends are nice and we had pizza." I toss one shoe into the shoe cabinet and begin untying the other.

"What did you do?" Mum continues to quiz me. I don't feel like twenty questions right now though, I just want to go to my room.

"Just hung out," I mumbled. I tug the other shoe off and toss it into the cabinet too. "It was okay." 

"What are his friends like?" Mum says.

"You've asked me that," I grunt. "I'll take my meds later. I'm going to get a shower." This usually means they'll leave me alone for a bit. I go up to my room, but instead of getting undressed and going to shower, I load my laptop up and stare at the screen, contemplating it for a minute.

I always said I'd never join social media, I'm just not that kid. I don't care for any of it, but I know that it's my best shot at getting back in touch with Cat. I hadn't even thought of the idea until earlier when Connor and PJ suggested it. It's worth a shot, isn't it? It's not like I have anything to lose.

I decide on Facebook, considering it seems to be the most popular site. I sign up and fill in my school, my likes, everything like that before it lets me find anybody. The first person I search for is PJ, and through his profile I find some people from school, Connor, Clarky and Mack. I even see some people who I was kind of friends with before I moved, the ones that were in my year. 

Then I go to find Cat. I type her name into the search bar and hope for the best. I don't even know if she uses this site, she never did before. We both agreed it was lame. That only makes it all the more shocking when she's the first person to come up. 

I click on the profile and look at it. It's all private, but I can see her picture. She looks different from how I remember her, she looks more mature and her hair is shorter. I add her and only a minute later she's accepted the request. A few other people have too, but they aren't important.

I can't believe it was that easy all along. I've finally done it. I've found Cat!

She messages me only seconds after she confirms the request. My heart jumps when the message box appears in the corner. 

**Cat: Dan?!**

**Dan: Hey Cat!**

I didn't know what to put. There's much to say, but I didn't have a clue where to begin. Luckily, Cat begins for me. 

**C: How have you been? Are you okay now? Fuck I've got so much to tell you! Why did you never reply to my texts?**

She never sent any texts. I lost that phone, but she would never have known that. She doesn't seem to know much about it at all.

**D: My phone was destroyed in the crash apparently. I got a new one but I didn't know any numbers. Mum and dad never let me see you, said you were a bad influence. I have no idea why they'd think that, other than the swearing incident in year eight? I have so much to tell you too! We need to meet up. I have a lot to ask you.**

**C: Ask away. I thought that might have happened. Your mum and dad always hated me. I wasn't allowed to see you when you were in hospital. They didn't let me see Phil either, do you remember any of that? The doctors said you'd forgotten a lot.**

**D: Yeah, I forgot pretty much all of the time I spent there. I keep remembering certain things but I don't know if they're real or not. It's scary.**

**C: I can imagine. I was just relieved that you were alive to be honest.**

**D: How cute. I've missed you so much. It's been weird back here. I feel so misplaced, like I'm missing something all the time. I'm with PJ though, did I ever tell you about him?**

**C: You told me about him all the time. That must suck. You need to come up here though, or I'll come down there. I missed you too but let's not get soppy now Howell, that's not our style? SO MUCH TO SAY!!! I have a million questions and you probably do too right?**

**D: Two million questions. I missed you, and I think I'd miss the others too if I remembered them. Was I close to anyone else?**

**C: You were. It's fucking heartbreaking that you don't remember - for us all. What are these 'certain things' that you keep remembering? I can probably tell you about them? Wow I can't believe this!!!**

I tell her in extensive detail about every single 'flashback' I've had so far, and there have been a lot. It's strange, but I can kind of piece them together in the order, and then Cat finally messages me back to confirm that as far as she can tell, all of them are real. At least, the ones that she's in. There were a couple with me and the two guys - Chris and Phil - who Cat also confirms are completely real.

My heart feels like it's expanding. I could cry to be honest; it's so comforting to know that I'm not just going crazy. Mum can shove her fucking medication. My next important question falls naturally into the conversation.

**D: So what happened to the other guy in the crash? Phil? Mum doesn't talk about it and apparently she never asked about him. They didn't seem to like him either, or anyone from there. Do you know why?**

**C: Think it would be better if we talked about this in person. There's a lot to say, especially about Phil. It's probably better that you don't remember that part. Don't worry about it yet though. Fuck, they'll all be so glad to know you're alright.**

**D: So it's bad? Why did mum and dad hate all my friends so much? Were you guys really a bad influence or did they just over react to everything as usual?**

**C: No offense but your parents are just pricks Dan. They wanted someone else to blame because they didn't like how you'd 'changed'. Phil was a big part of that, but can we talk about that some other time? It's a really long story and I'd prefer it if you remembered more (hopefully) about all of that before I go into detail. It's not nice :(**

We spoke no more of the subject, leaving me to wonder. Even Cat won't tell me everything. I guess some of it must be sore subjects for her too, but she kept saying how we should talk about it in person. We need to arrange something, but I know for a fact my parents would never let me go back to Manchester, and especially not to see Cat. They tried so hard to keep me from contacting her, they won't give in. I need to keep this social media account stuff secret - if they found out they'd flip.

Mine and Cats conversation goes on like that for a while, I don't even realize the time until I go to the toilet and see the clock in the hallway that reads four am. I quickly write a goodbye to Cat.

**D: It was amazing to talk to you again, I'll message you again later, or maybe we could try the video chatting thing? We'll definitely arrange to meet sometime soon, yeah? Goodnight x**

I leave it at that, and go to sleep.

_"You're blushing," Cat snorts, playfully shoving me. Oh god, am I? I fucking hate that. I always blush like an idiot, I can't help it. It only makes me blush harder when people point it out to me._

_"Do you think he knows?" I ask her, trying to keep my voice quiet. Phil is in the other room, so I know he won't hear, but it's not worth the risk. Plus, Chris is only over in the kitchen and I don't want him over hearing it either._

_"No," Cat sighs, "He's too naive and innocent." I relax at that, knowing that she's right. Phil doesn't seem like the most observant person either._

_"Good," I mutter. I stand up and go over to Chris. He's too busy making us dinner, and by dinner I mean he's whipping up some crisp sandwiches because it's eleven pm and none of us have had anything to eat since our 'dinner' at four, which was a shitty way too spicy kebab that none of us even ate._

_"Alright Danny?" He asks, smirking._

_"Hungry," I shrug, leaning against the counter, "Do you have a landline by any chance?" He points to the wall._

_"Parents?" He asks. I nod. They'll be worried sick, but my mobile ran out of battery like three hours ago and I know I should ring them. Cat's parents won't care, but mine aren't as chilled out as hers. I was supposed to be back home an hour ago. "How mad will they be?"_

_"I'm not sure," I sigh, "Angrier than last time, anyway." Last time was worse really, I didn't get in until one am and I'd completely forgotten to call. Now I've gone and done the same again, they'll be fuming. I've only just gotten un-grounded._

_"Good luck," Chris says, "If they completely flip their shit, you can just camp here for the night." It wouldn't be the first time I've had to do that._

_"Right," I say, "Thanks." He nods at me._

_"No worries," He shrugs. I go up to the phone hanging on the wall and dial the landline number. They answer straight away. "Mum?"_

_"Daniel?" She hisses, "Where the hell are you?" She isn't shouting, but she doesn't need to shout to let me know how pissed off she is._

_"I'm still out mum," I explain, "My phone battery died, I didn't know what to do-"_

_"You don't need a phone to tell the time," Mum snaps, which I don't bother pointing out is actually an incorrect statement, "You were supposed to be home almost two hours ago! You can't keep doing this, staying out so late. I won't have it, you're coming home now. Where the hell are you?"_

_"I'm at Chris's house-"_

_"Where does he live?" She asks. I can't tell her that, I don't want her knowing where I am all the time._

_"Near that Indian restaurant," I say, unable to think of anywhere else close that she could pick me up from. I'm not letting her have the address._

_"I want the address," She insists._

_"I don't know it," I lie, "Just pick me up from there-"_

_"No," Mum snaps, "Tell me where he lives. Why can't I know Daniel? Is it-"_

_"Oh for fucks sake," I groan, losing my patience with her, "Just don't bother. I'll get a bus-"_

_"No you won't," She snaps. I don't want to raise my voice, not when Chris and Cat are both within hearing distance. "I'm going to pick you up, I don't trust you to walk alone, and not all that way. You're a child Dan-"_

_"I am not!" I hiss, trying to keep my voice low. She knows I hate it when she says that. I hate being treated like a child. Mum always does it though, acting like I'm still twelve and I need constant guidance and help. I can make my choices now, and she fucking hates that. "You can't make me."_

_"Respect your elders Dan," Chris chimes, smirking. I roll my eyes at him. He knows what she's like, I'm just grateful he hasn't had first hand experience, God forbid that ever happens._

_"Fine," Mum says, her tone harsh and firm, "You have one hour to get home. If you're any later I will track that apartment down myself and personally drag you out of it. Are we clear? You're in big trouble, and don't think you can wade out of this one as easily as last time-"_

_"Good luck finding me," I sneer, "What are you going to do? Ground me again? That didn't work last time did it? Just let me fucking live my life-"_

_"Language," She gasps. I hate it when she picks up on my swearing, it's so hypocritical, Mum always swears._

_"I have to go," I lie. I don't have to go, I just want to. "I'll be back in an hour-"_

_"You're in-" I don't let her finish, I just hang up the phone and put it back on the wall. I lean against it, groaning. Why does she hate me so much? I hate her too, but only because she drives me to it. Mums are way too over protective. I don't want to have to end up like Chris did, his parents flew off the handle with him and look at him now. I can't let that be me. I know I need my parents, I just wish I didn't._

_"Mummy issues?" Chris asks me, walking over. He's balancing three plates between his arms and walking awkwardly slow trying to keep them balanced. I make it easier for him by taking the third one from him. He nods at me in appreciation._

_"You know how she is," I huff, "Always moaning and yelling about nothing. I'm not even that late." I kind of am, but she should be used to it by now. What respectable sixteen year old has a curfew anyway?_

_"Parents are dicks," Chris says. He puts the third plate down by Cat, who's too busy watching the TV to really react. "Phil, your sandwich is ready." He calls._

_Two minutes later, Phil comes stumbling out of the bedroom, his hair still damp from the shower. He's clean now though, which is better than earlier. As we learnt, drunk Phil falls a lot. It was cute really, until he fell into a small ditch of mud whilst screaming along to the lyrics of an old Panic! At The Disco song._

_It was entertaining, but he was absolutely wasted, and covered in mud and other things I don't even want to know about. He stumbled home without tripping again, but it was a task getting him into the lift and up to Chris's flat. He got a shower as soon as he got in and now, hopefully, he's sobered up a bit. Phil said he didn't like drinking much anyway, maybe this is why._

_"Alright now?" Cat asks him, smirking. He's wearing what I assume are Chris's clothes and they're a little tight, but anything's probably better than his own shitty (literally, they're shitty at this minute) clothes._

_"Fine," Phil says, but his slurred tone indicates otherwise. "Where's my sandwich?" He looks around in every direction, as if it's going to be up on the ceiling or down on the floor._

_"Here," Chris hands him the other plate. Phil takes it and sits down beside Cat. I sit next to him, closer than I should. Cat gives me a look then begins to eat her sandwich, turning her full attention to that instead._

_"I have to go soon," I tell them. I'm going to eat my sandwich first though, because priorities, right? I take a bite then put it back down, trying to make as little mess as possible._

_"Is it your mum again?" Cat asks, rolling her eyes. I nod, taking another bite of the sandwich._

_"What a cow," Chris grunts, shaking his head. Not one of my friends like my parents and my mum makes it pretty clear that the feeling is mutual._

_"Don't go Danny!" Phil pleads, resting his head on my shoulder. I tense up, but I shrug him off. He's just drunk. He doesn't mean anything by it._

_"I have to," I huff, "She's going to kill me." Maybe that's a tiny exaggeration._

_"You're mum is such a bitch," Cat mutters, rolling her eyes. I won't bother disagreeing. "She needs to let you live. You're not doing anything wrong." Maybe I am, maybe some of the things I've been getting up to lately are more morally questionable than I'd like to admit, but I'm not hurting anyone, or at least I don't ever intend to._

_"She worries," I explain, "She's so over protective and annoying-"_

_"She needs to stop," Chris scoffs, "Just let her know that she can't control you anymore. Let her know that this is your life and she can't dictate how you live it. She's your mum, not your owner." I know Chris is right, but it's not easy standing up to parents like mine. It's not like I haven't tried._

_I finish eating in silence and once I'm done, I put the plate down and stand up._

_"Are you going now?" Chris asks, wiping crumbs from his chair._

_"I think so," I mumble, looking around as if I'm scanning for something. I'm not, I just don't want to turn and face Chris. I know they're all sat glaring at me. They don't want me to leave and they're being quite blatant about it._

_"Are you going to walk?" Cat asks. I nod. I'm capable of walking, it's not too far, and I'd rather walk than let mum pick me up from here._

_"Yeah," I say, walking over to the kitchen stool and grabbing my jacket. I put it on and zip it up._

_"Alone?" Cat snorts, "At this time?"_

_"I can handle myself," I shrug, "It won't take me long. I know the way." That's not entirely true, it's a lot harder to see where you're going in the dark and a lot of the estates and streets look the same. I'll figure it out though._

_"You've got right balls doing that," Chris chuckles, "You're mad. Why don't you just stay here? Everyone else is." I wish I could too, I just don't want to piss my mum off to a greater extent._

_"I can't," I sigh, scratching my head. "I need to get going. It's been good though-"_

_"Fucking looney," Cat mumbles, shaking her head at me. "At least let us phone you a taxi." I like that idea actually. I just don't have enough money for one._

_"I only have a couple of pound left," I huff, "Don't worry about it. I can walk."_

_"I'll give you money you knob," Cat says, reaching into her back pocket. She pulls out a crumpled five pound note. "This should cover it, yeah?" I nod, I don't want to take it, but she presses the note into my hand._

_"Thanks," I say, "I'll pay you back, I promise."_

_I order a taxi and wait downstairs for it, stood outside alone. It's dark, but I like that. There's something so peaceful about the night sky. It's eerie, really, being out alone on such a rough estate at night, but I love something about that. The feeling of it. I guess it's because there's nobody else around to bother me._

_"Danny!" A loud voice calls. I turn around, un-surprised to see Phil staggering towards me. He's overly affectionate when he's drunk. "Don't go!" Okay, so maybe there is somebody else around. He won't bother me though, he never does._

_"We had this conversation ten minutes ago," I scoff, shaking my head._

_"I wasn't listening," He moans, "Stay! Stay! Stay-"_

_"I can't," I say, "You know how my mum gets." He pulls me into a hug, as if that's going to sway my judgement. Hell, any other time it would have._

_"Stay," He whispers again into my neck. His warm breath triggers goosebumps to crawl up my skin. I pull away, gulping. I shake my head, trying to keep that mindset. I can't stay. Not tonight._

_"I'll see you tomorrow," I tell him, "We can hang out then again. I don't need to stay over."_

_"We should hang out more Danny," He says, "We don't talk, just me and you. We should." I feel another lump forming in my throat. I nod, trying my best to not look like an awkward, uncomfortable fuck._

_"You're so pissed," I sigh, shaking my head at him. Who's to say he means any of this? He wouldn't want us to hang out alone. Why would he? I'm boring, and he prefers Chris and Cat to me anyway._

_"No," He whispers, giggling, "I mean yes. But I mean no, like yes I mean we should still hang out. I still want that." I see headlights approaching from up the road. It's a taxi._

_"I have to go," I tell him._

_"Loser," He grunts, but then he giggles, "Tomorrow, you promise?" If my mother hasn't killed me by then._

_"Yeah," I say, smiling at him. I can feel my entire body burning. It's good job it's dark, I must resemble a tomato. I swallow the lump in my throat. "Bye Phil."_

_"Bye Danny!" He starts to walk backwards, but then he stumbles and falls flat on his arse. I laugh. I would go have gone to help him up, but the taxi driver beeps his horn. I turn-_

Oh, fuck. 

I wake up again, sweating and scared. I remember my 'dream' exactly. Only I know it wasn't a dream. 

Once upon a time, that really did happen. I just don't remember it. 

The first thing I do is message Cat. I tell her every detail of what happened, making sure it's precise. I leave out the conversation between me and Phil - she wouldn't know about that anyway. I need her to remember. I need her to tell me I'm not crazy, that it is completely real. 

I send it and wait for a reply, but I don't get one straight away. I look and see that she isn't even online yet. Fuck. 

_I get ready whilst I wait, showering, getting dressed, attempting to style my hair, and then having breakfast. But no reply comes through._

\- 

I'm walking to school with PJ when the app on my phone finally pings up. I almost scream. 

"I told you to get it," PJ says, grinning smugly. I've told him a bit about Cat, but only a bit. I don't want them all knowing about the flashbacks and the medication. 

"You were right," I admit, smiling. I don't even care about him being smug. I'm grateful I took his advice to be honest. Now I don't feel so much like a freak. 

I open the message, shielding it from PJ tactfully. I see the four words, and close it. That's all I needed to know. That's all I wanted to know: 

**Cat: Yes, that was real...**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed? Feedback is always appreciated! Thanks for reading!


	4. The Ask and the (lack of) Answer

I'm in a better mood than usual. I can promise that it's down to the fact I'm back in contact with Cat. I can finally get answers, I can finally get some sort of idea about what happened to me last year, and that's the only thing I want. 

The boys all notice my unusual jolly mood, and take pleasure in mocking me for it.

"Have you been on smack?" Clarky asks me, laughing. I roll my eyes at him, but I can still feel the smile pinned on my face. It's not going anyway, I'm genuinely happy for once. Not even Clarky talking shit can put me in a bad mood right now.

"No," I chuckle.

"Do you want some smack?" He asks. I laugh. He's an idiot.

"Like you've ever touched an illegal drug," Connor scoffs, "Clarky you choked when we tried vaping." I laugh at that too. Vaping? It doesn't surprise me really. 

"You vape?" I spit, laughing. Clarky goes red.

"No," He insists, "Connor made us try it." I look to Connor, who shakes his head.

"You shouldn't give in to peer pressure William," I say to Clarky, smirking. Connor laughs. 

"Especially not vaping," PJ adds, laughing along, "Jesus, you two are stupid-"

"It was a laugh," Connor protests, "We only did it to piss Mack off." Connor really must dislike Mackenzie.

"Is Mack also a vaper hater?" I ask, feeling a new respect forming for her. 

"She's anti smoking," Connor says. "She's anti a lot of things." 

"She's okay," PJ cuts in. I really don't know what to make of their friendship. Mackenzie seems to like them more than they like her. Or maybe I'm missing something, who knows what's happened in the past. 

"She's coming," Clarky points behind us. I turn slightly, she's smiling at us, her navy hair bouncing as she skips over. 

"Hi Mack," I say, forcing a smile. She grins and slides between me and Connor. 

"I was almost late," She begins, "I had a right do with my mum this morning, she was being a right bitch, don't even get me started, right so-"

"Don't you have female friends for this sort of shit?" Connor grunts. I stop myself from smirking. I was thinking the same, kind of. I simply didn't care to hear about her morning, and Connor clearly feels the same. I've had a good morning, I don't want to hear about negative stuff. 

"Let me rant," Mack snaps, "You don't get it, it's alright for you isn't it Connor? Your mum isn't a complete cow. She only went and put my only hole-less tights in the wash!" 

"That's absolutely devastating," I gasp sarcastically. Connor, PJ and Clarky all laugh, making me feel kind of proud, but Mack looks offended, so I decide to leave it. She is being over dramatic, but it's probably not okay for me to comment on that, considering I barely know her. There are boundaries I suppose, I should probably try to respect those if I want to form a decent friendship with her. 

"Please," Connor begs, "Tell me more!" I appreciate his sarcastic nature, at least I'm not the only one reacting like that. Mack looks offended none the less.

"Fuck off then," She titters, "I was only trying to make some conversation." 

"We had a conversation before you interrupted," Connor snaps, a little too harshly. I raise my eyebrows at him. We were only joking about, suddenly he's gotten all serious about it. PJ and Clarky have noticed to, and are both staring at him, confused.

"Chill out Connor," Clarky says, "It's not that big of a deal." Connor stares down at the floor, turning a bright shade of red.

"Sorry," He mumbles, "I'm just pissed off. I don't want to have to listen to your girly bullshit." Mackenzie looks really offended now. I can tell just by looking at her that she isn't the type of girl to take shit like that. She reminds me of Cat in that way, how she'll stand up for herself and refuses to be seen as lesser because she's a girl. Mack hints at that complex too, and I do respect that in people. 

"My girly bullshit?" She snorts, "Right, yeah, coming from the boy who cried over getting a spot on the tip of his nose." I would have laughed, but I relate to be honest - it's wank when that happens.

"Burn!" Clarky yells, punching the air a bit too over enthusiastically. 

"Fuck off," Connor scoffs, folding his arms. He's being a little pathetic, but I'm curious as to what wound him up so quickly. She was just talking and then he snapped. Despite what he says, I really don't think Connor likes Mack. There's an odd yet interesting dynamic between them. I can't quite figure out what's going on between them.

"You can fuck off," Mack huffs, "I know where I'm not wanted, don't worry about it." She barges back out of the circle, huffing and puffing and she walks away. They watch her intently.

What a great way to put a downer on my good mood. 

"Aren't any of you going to go and talk to her?" I ask. Isn't that what usually happens? It would be mean to let her just walk off like that. If I knew her any better, I'd probably go, but I don't feel like it's my place considering I barely know her. 

"I will," Clarky chimes, grinning. Of course he would. PJ rolls his eyes at that, but none of us protest when he runs off to follow her. In fact, I think they're kind of pleased about it.

"We've got maths first," Connor says to me. I nod, awkwardly smiling at him. What does he want me to say? He's just exploded at Mack like that, now he's acting completely normal. He's being all weird.

"I'm going to go to my locker," PJ says, "Are you coming Dan?" I look at him, then back to Connor. I'm with Connor in lesson, so I might as well stay with him now. There's no point me going with PJ only to have to come back. Plus, I don't want to leave Connor stood alone.

"You can go on your own can't you?" I ask. He shrugs. 

"Fine," He mutters, walking off. Connor laughs as soon as PJ is out of hearing distance. I raise my eyebrows at him.

"What?" I ask. He shakes his head. "What?" I repeat.

"Nothing," He chuckles, "It's just that everyone is so touchy this morning." I almost snort. He's the one that flipped out at Mack, so it's not exactly fair of him to say that.

"How so?" I quiz. Am I missing something? I think not. We begin walking to class, continuing the conversation.

"Didn't you see the look PJ gave you just then?" Connor says, "He looked gutted." I didn't notice actually, but that doesn't sound right. Maybe Connor just misread his expression. 

"Oh," I mutter, "I didn't see." 

"They're all being pathetic this morning," Connor huffs, "Mack can just piss off today-"

"You really don't like her do you? " I ask, shaking my head. 

"I do like her," He says again. I'm struggling to believe it though, not after the performance I've just seen. "It's just...oh fuck it. Never mind. So, how was your morning? Was it as stressful as Mack's?" 

"Yes actually," I say, "My mum put my only pair of hole-less tights in the wash too." He laughs at that. 

"So I noticed you joined the world of social media last night," Connor says. I nod.

"I found an old friend actually," I tell him, too eager to keep it in, "She can tell me everything. I can't believe I never thought to try it before. You're a genius." 

"I know," He shrugs, smirking. "That's great though. Do you think she'll tell you everything? How do you know that she knew it all?" I hadn't thought of that, but I assumed I'd have stuck with Cat through anything. She'll have known something. I know I'll never get the full truth back, but I'd never considered the possibility that I'd have hid anything from her. She'll know it all. She has to. 

"I never hide things from her," I say, sternly. I'm pretty confident that I'm right on this one. I wouldn't have had any secrets from Cat, it's too unlike me. 

"Were you close then?" Connor asks. I nod and a weight grows in my chest. I miss her a lot. "Was she like, a girlfriend-"

"God no," I spit, a little too quickly. I never saw Cat like that. I never will. I never could.

"Oh," He says, "Do you think that you did have a girlfriend up there?" I almost laugh at that, but instead I just shake my head, keeping my face completely straight. That's probably one of the few things I know for sure about last year.

"I wasn't supposed to date," I tell him. I'm not sure if that rule still stands. Dating hasn't really come into conversation since the crash, but before it, mum and dad were always on my case about how I needed to focus on my studies, and how a 'girl'friend would be bad for me. I'm assuming the rule still applies. No girlfriends. 

"That's shit," He replies, "Have you ever had a girlfriend?" 

"No," I admit, blushing. "And if I did, I don't remember." If I did, I'm glad I can't remember.

"Have you ever kissed anyone then?" He inquires, leaning back against the wall outside our class. I stop and lean against it too, facing him. 

"I hadn't before," I say, "Who knows what I did though. I mean, maybe I even fucked someone. I can't remember." That idea terrifies me, and it's not even something that I can ask about. I just have to wait for my memory to come back - if it does. Or if not, there's always the slight chance I'll have a flashback/dream about it. I'm not exactly opposed to that, but it could be pretty awkward.

"That's so shit," Connor says, and he sounds genuinely saddened for me. "If it makes you feel any better, we're all still virgins too." I laugh at that. It doesn't really surprise me. Except maybe Connor, he's attractive, I assumed he'd have been with someone.

"That is comforting," I say, chuckling. I mean, I knew PJ wasn't huge on the dating thing, and I mean, it doesn't take more than a conversation with Clarky to guess that about him, but Connor could go either way. I assumed he'd have been a catch with girls.

"There's nobody decent in our year," He sighs, "Not that you'd want to get with any of them, most of them are complete messes." I haven't been here long enough to evaluate them all, but the few girls I've come into contact with haven't exactly blown me away. 

"Have you ever had a girlfriend?" I ask him. He nods, smirking. "Who?" I ask. He bites his lip then subtly points to the left. I turn my head, to see a group of three girls leaning against the wall opposite us, huddled together giggling and chatting away. One of them is tall, blonde and plastered in make up, I think she's attempting to look pretty (personally, I don't think so but as long as she likes it?). Another is smaller with short brown hair and button nose, she's cute really. It could be her. The third girl is what you'd call a rarity in a school like this. She's incredibly slim and tall, her dark skin and wild curly hair make her stand out above her other insanely boring friends, and small freckles decorate her face, making her look stunning. I raise my eyebrows. I'm surprised I haven't noticed her before.

"Which one?" I ask, trying to make sure. 

"The ugly one," He sighs. That's a real fucking shame. I snicker at him, and shake my head. 

"You could have pulled the fucking super model and you went for a Vicky Pollard tribute act?" I sneer, which is mean of me considering how hard she's clearly tried, and how inaccurate the comment is. He laughs, then shakes his head.

"It was year seven," He protests, laughing, "For three weeks exactly. Then I dumped her over text because I saw her hug Steve Backster, the two-timing prick." I laugh at that. We've all been there, with the humiliating year seven relationships. Except me of course, I was pretty much friendless and lonely in year seven (yes, I was that kid). 

"Seriously though," I say, "Have you ever had a serious girlfriend?" He shakes his head, clearly embarrassed.

"Never," He mumbles.

"Why not?" I ask, "You're brilliant-" I say it before I think it through. What if he takes that the wrong way? "I mean, you know, like-"

"Really?" He asks, raising his eyebrows, "Shut up. I'm a fucking loser. But it's not like I've never tried. I just can't get the people I like to like me back, and the people that end up liking me are never my type. That's just how it is." I can't help but feel bad for him. He's a nice guy too, from what I've seen.

"That's a shame," I say, trying to be serious, "I've never had the chance to get to know anyone well enough to be with them. I move around too much." I leave out the part about how people here thought I was a fucking weirdo, and how people back in Manchester almost all despised me and Cat for some reason or another. 

"You're staying here now though, aren't you?" He asks. I shrug. My intention is to go back to Cat as soon as I can, and preferably stay there.

"For now," I huff. 

"Oh," He says, "So what are you doing later today?" I think about it. Absolutely nothing really. I can't wait to get home though, just to message Cat, though social networks don't count as official activities, do they? God, that's sad.

"Nothing," I tell him.

"Do you want to come to mine then?" He asks, "Without PJ this time. I'm not allowed a house full, but you can come and I'll show you some mods on GTA and-"

"I don't know if I can," I blurt. That's bullshit. My mum would jump for joy if she thought I was going over to a new friends house. She's always more excited than me when I make new friends, and she'll love Connor and Clarky just because they're not Cat. "It's just, you know, my mum and dad might not like me being out for tea two days in a row and-"

"Oh," Connor says, "No, it's fine though. I get it. Parents are dicks, it's fine. Don't worry about it, we could always hang out this weekend-"

"Sure," I say. Now I must sound too eager. I'm glad to be making friends this time though, even if they are all video-game obsessed and younger than me. It's better than having no one at all. "Does Sunday work for you?" 

"Yeah," He says, "My parents go to church then to my aunties, so I'm home alone all day. You can come to mine. Don't tell PJ or Clarky though, they think I go with my parents. I've been getting out of plans since year seven using that excuse." This guy is fucking consistent, and he really doesn't like his friends. That might explain why he's so chilled out with me, maybe he likes having another person around? I can't image Clarky is the most exciting person in the world to be stuck with for five years, although I'm happy to be proved wrong about that. 

"Cool," I say, "And don't worry, I won't breath a word." 

-

When I get in, there's another message on my Facebook, as well as a friend request from someone called Chris Kendog. Is that an actual name? I accept it anyway though because Cat's a mutual friend, so he must be of some relevance. Or he was at some point anyway.

I message Cat, wondering if he's the Chris I keep seeing in my dreams. I think he is. He looks like him, and they have the same name. It's unlikely to be a coincidence, however I want to be cautious. 

I wonder if anyone else who once knew me is on here. I wonder if they all know what happened to me, if they all know I've forgotten their existence. Not that I have forgotten them all, I mean, I remember Chris and Phil. That has to mean something, and I know they aren't illusions now. They're real and I remember.

I go downstairs whilst I wait for a reply, 

"How was school Daniel?" My mum asks me. 

"Fine," I shrug. I take a bag of crisps from the cupboard and get a glass out from the shelf.

"How did you sleep last night?" She asks, "You took your pill, didn't you?" I didn't, but she doesn't need to know that. I know mum would freak out, plus, she'd know something was wrong. It's best to keep acting as normal, going about how I normally do and accepting my parents think I'm a mentally damaged weirdo.

"Fine," I say, "I always take my pills, you know that." I go to the fridge and open the door, staring in before I actually take anything out.

"Yes but I'm just making sure," Mum huffs, "We don't need you suffering through any more trauma, do we?" Having flashbacks to last year isn't what I'd call traumatic. Forgetting an entire year of your life and then being labelled as a freak by your own family is what I'd call traumatic.

"I'm going to be fine," I insist. I'm not sure I mean it though, not now I'm back in touch with Cat. I'm half scared for what she has to tell me. 

"The sooner you fall back into normality, the better you'll be Daniel," She says, "Try not to think about it. Take your pills, go about your day and this is going to be-"

"You sound more worried than me," I snort. We've had this conversation at least fifty times. Acting normal will make me think everything is normal, yada-yada-yada. It's all bullshit. I can't pretend like this didn't happen. I think my parents know that deep down, they just don't know how else to handle it. I sometimes forget how scary it all was for them, I mean, at first, they didn't think that I'd be able to remember anything at all! I got off lucky, to be honest, but it's still not exactly easy to deal with. 

"I think I am," Mum chuckles, "It's pie for dinner tonight, as soon as your dad gets in, so don't stuff your face with crisps." 

"I'm only having one bag," I grumble. I pour myself a coke the head back upstairs. There's a message waiting for me. I almost drop the drink. Instead I slam it down on my desk and open the message.

**Cat: Yes, it's him. You were really close to Chris. He's so excited to talk to you again Dan! I know you don't remember anyone from here, but everyone remembers you Dan. Just wait, you'll be getting loads of requests soon. They all know what happened, so it's not like they'll expect you to know them or anything. It's still nice for us to get to talk to you again, even if you don't remember who we are.**

**Cat: Also, Chris says hello and he hopes you're doing okay.**

**Cat: I'd expect an inbox from him later, try not to be too weirded out. I can fill you in on some of the details - how you met and stuff?**

Funny, I think I remember meeting him. I had a dream about it the other day. I went to his apartment with Cat and met him and the other boy -Phil- and they were really nice. Then in all those other dreams. I once had one with just me and him.

It was one of the first times I'd had one, before I could even dare think of what they were. I thought they were just weird dreams or something, but they were so vivid. I had a dream that me and Chris were out on a field, he was telling me about his family and how he ended up living alone in a flat, and then we came across a dead hedgehog and he started crying. I remember waking up after that and being so confused, but now I know - it happened.

I guess it's something I can ask him about, as well as every other time he's appeared in one of the flashbacks. I contemplate messaging him, but he beats me to it.

**Chris: Hi Dan, this is probably a dumb question but do you remember me?**

**Dan: Funnily enough, I kind of do actually.**

**C: Oh fuck, really?!!!!! Cat said you forgot us all!**

**D: I'm not sure who 'us all' entails. I remember you and Phil and Cat. This sounds weird but I sometimes have dreams about things that happened last year and I thought they were like, fake at first, but I asked Cat and everything that happened in them was real. I'm basically having flashbacks in my sleep.**

**C: That's so fuckin cool??? I'm honored you remembered me though lol - what can you remember about me?**

**D: I remember meeting you - when Cat brought me to your flat. I remember a lot of random things that you've probably forgot about.**

**C: If it's anything to do with you then I probably remember. Best time of my life, no lie.**

**D: Cat says we were close, were we?**

**C: You were closer to Phil really, but yeah. What else did Cat say about me huh**

**D: Nothing bad - should she have?**

**C: Hell no, I'm practically an angel :p**

**D: Not from what I remember...**

**C: R U D E !**

Despite his incorrectly punctuated messages, I think Chris is okay. Fuck, I think Chris is brilliant. It only makes me more angry about forgetting, but I know forgetting isn't my fault. All I can do is remember, and that's exactly what I intend to do. For me, for Cat, for Phil, for Chris: 

I have to remember.


	5. Discovery 2.0

"I can't believe you survived an entire week," Connor says, giggling. It's Sunday and my parents were practically ecstatic when they dropped me off at his house earlier. They're just shocked I've made friends so quickly. I'm shocked at how easy it was. 

It's been an alright week, though it seems to have flown by. I had flashbacks every night since talking to Chris, but nothing was really of great importance, they were just...conversations? I haven't told anyone about them. I didn't even talk to my doctor about them, she just asked me to talk about the usual bullshit.

Things aren't as bad as I expected though, and so I'd say considering the circumstances, I'm pretty happy right now. I've even made okay friends, which is not something I had really considered. I just figured PJ would be tolerable, but he's more than that, I actually like him - and his friends. They're much different to what I expected. 

"It wasn't that bad," I scoff, kicking him playfully.

"You've only been there a week," Connor says, "Just wait, the horror's going to hit you soon." 

"Aren't you the negative one?" I chuckle. He's showing me how to mod bikes on GTA so I can win races. It's not something I have a passionate need to know, but he's into it so I let him keep talking.

"I'm allowed to be negative," Connor groans, "I've had to put up with Clarky and Peej since year seven." I laugh at that, but part of me wonders if he's really joking. He seems kind of bitter about them, mostly Mack, but still...

"They're okay," I say, "I mean, I can see how Clarky can be a bit much but...I don't know. I think I'm bias about PJ because I've known him for so long." PJ did used to be an annoying little shit, but he seems to have grown up a bit now. We were all annoying little shits at one time, I can forgive him. 

"PJ isn't bad," Connor explains, "I do love them both to pieces, it's just boring being with the same people all the time. We do the same stuff on weekends, talk about the same things and I know them both well enough to know that's not going to change." 

"Everyone can change," I tell him, "Maybe they think the same about you." 

"Maybe," He sighs. "I just want to do something exciting you know? Like I want to live a little and PJ and Clarky think that going to the park and ripping leaves off bushes is a barrel of laughs." 

"That's shit," I say, "They might lighten up though, you never know. Things change." 

"It's too late for me to tell them how I feel though," Connor huffs. I notice he's paused the game which means this is serious business. "They'd either take the piss or get mad and I don't want either." 

"So just don't tell them," I shrug, "You don't need PJ and Clarky to do fun, adventurous stuff. I mean, I could come with you - or maybe Mack-" I don't want to sound desperate or like I'm too keen, but I'm definitely up for doing something like that. Plus, maybe if we start hanging out more I can convince him to come down to Manchester with me to see Cat and Chris and Phil and everyone. It would be better than going alone.

"That would be good," Connor says, "I mean, with you - not Mack. But before you ask, no it's not because I don't like her." 

"Right," I say, chuckling. He clearly doesn't like her. "What's up with you two? I don't get it."

Connor puts the controller down and leans back against the wall, shaking his head. I've reached a sore subject for him. "It's complicated Dan." 

"You think I don't know complicated?" I snort, "I'm used to it. Try me." Connor shakes his head again, but he's smiling this time.

"You probably guessed this already," Connor confesses, "Mack likes me. She's had this dumb crush on me since year eight when we started gaming together. I never liked her in that way, but she didn't know that. She thought that I liked her - for some reason." 

"So you weren't leading her on at all?" I quiz. There must be a reason she thinks that he liked her. People get wrong impressions though, I guess. 

"Not intentionally," Connor shrugs, "I mean, we were just friends. She got the wrong impression, that isn't all my fault. It was fine though, you know? I always knew about her crush, it was a bit awkward but I got over it and she told me she had too." 

"Was this still in year eight?" I ask, chuckling. It seems a bit dramatic for two thirteen year olds, but who am I to judge? I only had two friends in year eight.

"Nah," Connor replies, smirking, "Year ten. This was a long ordeal for me Dan. Anyway, so then this boy in our year - Charleson How-"

"He's in my English!" I exclaim, excited that I'm already learning names. Connor laughs at me. I grin, "I only remember because of the posh name." 

"That's the only reason anyone knows him," Connor giggles, "He's a dork." 

"I like him," I shrug, despite never actually having spoken to him. He seems alright though, but that's probably because he doesn't talk much.

"You talked to him?" Connor asks. I smirk and shake my head. He rolls his eyes at me, then continues on with the story, "Anyway, he threw a party and for once I got invited. He told me to bring some girls, so I brought the only girl I spoke to - Mack." 

"And what happened?" Stupid question. I could probably finish this story myself. 

"She got me alone," Connor mumbles, "She got me alone and she kissed me and I pushed her away and she got all upset and started yelling and I yelled back and accidentally said something that upset her and she stormed out." 

"Oh," I say, acting surprised, though I'm really not at all. "What did you say?" 

"I just said what she already knew," Connor sighed, "She just didn't want to hear it. We never talked about it though. Like, the next day she tried acting like nothing was wrong and I went along with it but...Things won't ever go back to the way they were." 

"That's shit," I mutter, unsure of what else I can say. I feel almost bad for Mack, that can't be a nice situation, but Connor isn't really the bad guy either, it's not a crime to not be attracted to someone. Still, rejection is awful and I know I'd be hurting if someone like Connor said no. 

"It is," He huffs. 

"Do Clarky and PJ know?" I ask. 

"Nope," Connor replies. I hold back my grin. I feel honoured to be the only one that knows, especially to say he barely knows me. I could be a complete backstabber for all he knows, yet he's trusting me with something not even his best friend knows. "It's equally as humiliating for us both. It was like a silent agreement that we'd just never speak of it again - to anyone. Fuck, suppose I've broken that now but..." 

"I won't say anything," I promise him, "I'm not a complete knob head." 

"Thanks mate," Connor says, "I know Clarky would go mad at me if he found out. He keeps encouraging me to go for Mack, but I know he likes her. I'd be a right twat if I went for her - even if I really did like her." 

"Yeah," I snort, "That was be brutal for him. Poor Clarky." 

"She doesn't like him that much," Connor tells me, "She thinks he's a bit of a joke really. Most people do." I feel a pang of pity for the guy. 

"Do you?" I ask. Connor picks his controller back up.

"I don't think he's a joke," He says, "It's just that nobody takes him seriously. People are always laughing at him, no matter what he does. He realized he has to act like a joke. Be laughed at or be laughed with. He likes to think they're laughing with him...I let him think that." And with that sentence I've learnt more about Will Clark than in the entire week I've spent trying to analyse him.

-

When I get home that evening, my parents go out for a meal with their friends, leaving me home alone for a while. I don't mind, I like having time to myself, and I like that my parents are settling back in here again. As annoying as they can be, I don't want them to be miserable here - that would just make me feel bad for being the reason they moved back again.

I talk to Cat and Chris for a bit online as well as doing 'other things' while they're gone. Connor and PJ both keep texting me too, which I don't mind. It's nice to feel like I've got friends again.

It's about eight when I decide to shower. I'm known for taking forever, but tonight I'm only in for ten minutes before I get back out and go back to my room. I sit down on the edge of my bed in my towel and pick up my phone. There are messages from Connor, Cat and PJ. I take my time replying to them all, feeling bad for taking so long to reply.

I'm in the middle of replying to Cat when I begin to feel light headed. I put the phone down and hold my head. It's a weird feeling, like a dizzy spell yet deja vu at the same time. It feels as if the entire room is spinning, dizziness worse than ever before. I shut my eyes and bury my head in my hands to enhance the darkness, hoping that will make it feel better. 

It doesn't.

I lay down, groaning from the soft pain and sudden heat I feel all over my body. Maybe I'm coming down with something. I feel light headed and woozy and sick. I feel like passing out or throwing up. It feels like-

_"You fucking idiot!" I squeal, flicking mud at Chris. It's only a laugh, but just like always, Chris takes things too far. I didn't want to do this anyway._

_"It was an accident," He protests, but he's still laughing - they all are. I know it wasn't an accident, he was just trying to be funny as usual. This time it's just mean. "Sorry." But he doesn't sound it._

_I stand up, wiping myself down - though that's pretty hard considering my hands are equally at damp and dirty as my lower half. My top seems to be mostly clean of any mud or dirt, thankfully. My mum would murder me if I got this shirt dirty, it's probably one of the nicest I own._

_"I'll help you back up," Chris holds out his hand, but I slap it away. I don't want his help - he'd probably only push me back in. I hate it when he's like this. "Fine, suit yourself. I was only messing about Dan, why'd you have a stick up your arse about everything?"_

_"Fuck off," I spit at him, climbing back onto the grass, "I told you I didn't want to get dirty-"_

_"Then why come down to the woods you ball-mole?" Cat scoffs. I glare at her, not even laughing at her dumb insult for once. I hate it when she sides with him - she always does. I don't get why though, she just seems to prefer Chris and Phil to me, always picking them, always siding with them. They can do no wrong in her eyes. I don't get it._

_"Because you fucking made me!" I snap back, flicking more filth from my jeans. They feel all gross and heavy now. I can't wait to go home and change. Mum will flip when she see's me like this though. "I said I didn't want to come, but once again we're doing whatever Cat and Chris want-"_

_"Stop being a baby Dan," Cat hisses, "It's a little bit of water and mud. You'll survive, won't you? Or are you going to go crying to mummy again? You're an arsehole sometimes I swear-"_

_"You're the ones being arseholes," I protest, "Why do you always have to take things too far? You keep deliberately trying to wind me up, you knew I didn't want to go here, you knew I didn't want to get mucky!"_

_"I said sorry," Chris says, "I didn't think you'd actually fall."_

_"You never think Chris," I retort, wiping my hands on my jeans. They can't get much worse, so it's not like it matters._

_"Chill out Dan," Cat grumbles, "Stop pissing on the party or fuck off. I can't stand you being so negative all the time! We were only having a fucking joke but once again you go and get pissy with us and ruin it all and-"_

_"Fine!" I yell, "Off I fuck! Bye fucktards, have fun playing in the mud like the ten year olds you are." I don't look back as I storm off, but I can hear Cat and Chris laughing at me - again._

_I sometimes wish Cat had never introduced me to Chris and Phil. Everything was supposed to get better when I met them, but it's all just got balls up. There's everything that's happened with Phil, then there's Chris's love of Cat pissing me off and Cat's complete fixation with them both. I don't get it. I didn't want any of this. I was better off without them._

_If I could forget ever even meeting them, I would gladly do so at this minute, though deep down, I just want to go back to when it was all okay and good fun. It wasn't always this bad._

_"Dan wait!" It's Phil's voice. If it was any other, I'd have kept walking, but something makes me stop. I want to listen to him, I want him to talk to me. "Dan!"_

_"What?" I grumble, turning to face him. I fold my arms and scrunch my face, trying to act like I'm mad at him too, but I'm not. I couldn't be if I tried._

_"Wait," He calls out as he jogs up to me, panting despite the lack of speed and distance he's going. I roll my eyes at him, holding back a smirk. I have to remind myself I'm infuriated right now and not even Phil trying to run can fix that._

_"What do you want?" I ask as he stops in front of me, hands on his knees as he gasps for air._

_"You seemed...really...angry...back there," He has to keep pausing for breath, "I felt bad...are you...okay?"_

_"No," I scoff, "I'm really not. They're being dick heads and you know it-"_

_"I know," He sighs, "I was going to step in but- Well you know what they're like Dan. I didn't want to make things worse."_

_"Worse for yourself?" I quiz. He blushes guiltily. "I don't need you to defend me." But it would be nice._

_"I know," Phil says, "I just...I felt bad for you - they were being horrible and you didn't do anything wrong and so I felt bad and I didn't want to go down there either and-"_

_"Your rambling Phil," I scoff, "Just stop fussing about it. What does it even matter to you if they bitch at me? They always bitch at me. I can cope."_

_"They're being pricks," Phil shrugs, "I felt bad." Right, of course. As always with Phil, it's just the guilt. He thinks it's his responsibility to be nice to me because nobody else is. That's all it is and I can't let myself think otherwise._

_"How sweet of you," I say, turning back around and starting to walk away. Phil follows, grabbing my arm. "I don't need your pity."_

_"I didn't mean it like that-" He says._

_"You did," I spit, "I don't want or need your pity Phil. You can fuck off back to Chris and Cat, they'll miss your company you know-"_

_"I don't want their company," Phil cuts in, letting me go and standing still. I stop too, and turn to face him. How the fuck do I respond to that? "I didn't even want to go down there Dan. I wanted to stay here and they just insisted so I went along with it and then they took it too far when they pushed you in and I should have said something sooner and I'm sorry but that isn't the only reason I followed you. I didn't even tell them I was going. I just took off, they'll figure it out eventually - if they even notice." Sometimes Cat and Chris get wrapped up in each other, they just find each other so funny and it always gets to the point where they leave the rest out, like if we speak up we're intruding on their little bubble. It's been like that for a while now and I'm past caring about it. Phil is right: they won't notice he's gone yet._

_"Oh," I mumble, rubbing the back of my neck awkwardly. I feel kind of stupid now - I should have let him explain._

_"I followed you because I'd rather be with you," Phil says, smiling softly. I feel my cheeks instantly heat up and my palms grow sweaty, I wipe them down my jeans, but then remember the dirt. Fuck._

_"Oh," I repeat, unable to say much else due to the horrific lump that's just formed in my throat._

_"So please don't be pissy with me Dan," Phil sighs, "Are you going to change your jeans?"_

_"Yep," I mumble, staring down at them. I'm so fucking mad at Chris, these are a good pair too. "It's going to take forever walking back to mine - you don't have to come with me. Plus my mum will make me stay in anyway if she see's the state and then you'll have come with me for nothing-"_

_"We can go back to Chris's," Phil shrugs, "It's five minutes away, just put his joggers on and make him wash your jeans as punishment, then you don't have to go in and your mum doesn't have to see the jeans." It's a good idea actually. It wouldn't be the first time we've had to go back to Chris's flat whilst he's not there, or the first time we've had to wear his clothes._

_"I don't know Phil," I say. I bite my lip, weighing up my options. I could go home and change and stay there with my laptop in comfortable clothing, however I'd have to deal with my grumpy mum and Phil would probably be asked to leave (mum isn't a big fan - at all). I could alternately use the spare key for Chris's flat, leave my jeans for him to wash and 'borrow' his tracksuit bottoms (lord knows he has at least five pairs) and-_

_Phil doesn't give me time to come to an ultimatum. He grabs my hand, despite my sweaty, filthy palms, and drags me in the other direction._

_"Chris's flat is quicker," He insists, "And your mum can't kick me out there."_

_-_

_The walk to Chris's is quicker and it only takes us about five minutes. The old woman at the bus stop across the road gives us a funny look as we're walking into the building. At first I think it's because of my dirty jeans, but then I realize it's more likely to be down to the fact Phil is still gripping my hand._

_I quickly yank my hand from his, instead using it to run through my hair. Phil gives me a weird glance, but then turns his attention back to unlocking the door. Anyone could get into Chris's place if they tried - he doesn't exactly value security. The spare key is under the mat, anyone could see it really. Phil opens the door and slides it back under before stepping inside._

_I follow him in and slam the door behind me before rushing into Chris's bedroom. It's a pig-sty, yet it's still not the messiest room in the house. I rummage through most of his wardrobe before finding a pair of plain black jogger bottoms. I change quickly, laying my jeans across his bed for him to discover later, and then slipping into his. They're comfier, which is one bonus._

_When I come back into the living area, Phil has poured us both a glass of coke and there are crisps out on the counter. I'd usually be excited at the sight of food, but today I'm just not feeling hungry enough. I get too worked up and I lose my appetite._

_"Are you okay now?" Phil asks me, sitting down at the breakfast bar. I nod, sitting on the stool next to him and leaning against the counter top. "You seemed so mad."_

_"I was just taking everything out on them," I sigh, "You know, they've been doing it a lot recently and then Chris just pushed me over the edge this time - literally." Phil smirks and then nods._

_"He can be a dick like that sometimes," He replies, "I don't think he means to be, he just doesn't realize how annoying he can be. Maybe now he'll think more about it, huh?"_

_"I doubt it," I huff, "Cat won't. She's always been like this. I think she's worse with Chris though, she seems to do it more - and she always sides with him. It's always be being pathetic, never Chris being idiotic." I'm so grateful I can tell Phil this stuff, nobody else would listen._

_"Do you think she likes Chris?" Phil asks. I almost laugh at the idea. "I mean, that would explain why she's so false around him. She is really up his arse."_

_"She likes Marcus," I tell him. I don't feel guilty about telling her little secret, not one bit. I know she told Chris mine - and then Chris told Phil. Frankly, I don't care if Phil tells everyone he knows right now. I don't owe Cat anything. "Do you think Chris likes her?"_

_"Chris likes boys," Phil chuckles. I blush - so does Phil. But we can't talk about that._

_"Does he like you?" I ask, being blunt. Phil's mouth falls open and he stares at me in what I can only describe at a mix between horror and amusement._

_"No way," Phil scoffs, "He - he can't. Plus, I think I know who he likes." I've never really given a shit about who Chris likes, but since it's the topic at hand there's no harm in asking questions - is there?_

_"Who would that be?" I quiz, smirking. Phil smirks back, releasing a cage of butterflies in my stomach. He taps his nose then sips his drink. I glare at him. "You can't do that! Come on, I told you about Cat."_

_"You'd freak out if I told you," Phil shrugs, "I freaked out when I realized. Hopefully it's just me over analyzing everything, but it's kind of obvious when you think about it..." He's smirking at me, that fucking irritatingly cute smirk of his. That's when I realize it._

_"Me?" I gasp, "You think Chris likes-" Phil nods and I explode into laughter. Phil is giving me a funny look._

_"I thought you liked him too," Phil admits, giggling, "It's just-"_

_"You couldn't be more wrong," I say, shaking my head at him. I don't like Chris. I keep telling myself I don't like anyone, but that isn't true and I know it, as much as I wish I didn't..._

_"So who do you like?" Phil asks. I roll my eyes. Me and Cat used to ask each other that when we were like, twelve (no okay she asked me the other week but it wasn't like that, there's no other way to phrase it so just like, shut up). "Come on, you know what I mean. Is there anyone?"_

_"I...no," I lie. His face falls. I gulp back the lump forming in my throat. "What about you?"_

_"I thought you'd figured that out the other week," Phil says quietly. My stomach is churning and I can't tell whether it's in a good way or a bad way. "I mean, I know we never talked about it but-"_

_"Oh," I stammer, because it's all I can say. I mean, yeah, I'd thought about it I just..._

_A kiss is just a kiss, I didn't think he even meant to do it. We just accidentally kissed, like he leaned in and I leaned in and oops our lips touched and then we did that for like ten seconds before I freaked out and he left. I didn't even let myself think that it meant..._

_I mean, I wanted to think it. I just refused to let myself in case I was wrong._

_"I know you're not even into boys," Phil says eventually, just to end the silence. He's wrong, but I don't correct him. "I never even meant to do it. I thought we were going to talk about it but we didn't and so I figured you just didn't want to and-"_

_"No," I cut in, my heart is pounding so fast I can feel it against my ribs. I'm sweating and I can feel the lump throbbing in my throat. What am I about to do? "I did want to- talk about it I mean. I wanted to talk about it I just thought you regretted it or-"_

_"I didn't regret it," Phil admits. My stomach is tingling more than I care to admit, like warm pool of butterflies is forming._

_"Oh," I say for probably the fifth time. He smiles lightly, and I have no fucking clue what my face is doing until my eyes are closed and I feel his lips on mine again. Did I lean in first? Did he?_

_I don't care at this point. This is what should have happened last time, but I was too scared. This time, it's better, it's different. His lips are warm and soft and moving in sync with mine. He has one hand resting on my knee and the other holding my chin up to his face, making it easier for us to keep kissing, which fucking hell, I hope we keep doing._

_I wrap my hands around his neck, despite every alarm going off in my head screaming not to. I can't help it. I can't stop myself. I've wanted this for so long, and I've been denying it for so long. I promised myself that I didn't like Phil - that I didn't like boys. Now there's no denying it. Not to Phil anyway, because straight boys don't kiss other boys like this._

_His hands cup my face before he slows down, lowering the intensity of the kiss and slowly pulling away. I let my forehead rest against his and shut my eyes. I'm not ready to look at him yet, stare into the eyes of someone who knows the darkest of all my secrets. I can't do that yet._

_I gulp as I feel his lips press against my forehead for a second, before pulling away and taking his hands off of my cheeks. "Dan?" He whispers. I find my eyes opening, staring at the now empty space where seconds ago he sat kissing me. I look up at him, my entire face burning red. He's stood now, as if he's backed away from me._

_Fuck. Was I that bad?_

_"What?" I ask, my voice wary and shaking. I think I know what. I'm just not ready to face that yet. I repeat myself when he doesn't immediately respond. "What?"_

_"Dan..."_

I feel myself bolt forward, my eyes shooting open in a mixture of panic and fear. Fuck.

Did I pass out again? That's even worse than the random dreams, it's scarier, more spontaneous. 

I rub my eyes and try to get back in sync with my surroundings. I'm in my room. I'm in my towel (?!) and I'm fine. I'm okay.

But I'm not.

That was by far the most vivid flashback I've had yet, and definitely the scariest. Now I almost want to go back to sleep and find out what happened. What did he say to me? Dan in the dream knew. Dan in the dream had it all under control. I don't. I'm not that Dan anymore.

I can't believe myself. Did I really let myself do that? It's unlike me, yet that was so eye opening. I haven't seen that side to Cat and Chris - or Phil - in any of my other flashbacks. I've had weird ones, ones that lack context and meaning, but suddenly some of those are beginning to make more sense. 

Was I seeing Phil? I hope not. I would never let myself do something like that - but I definitely kissed him. That means something, doesn't it? Everything I felt then, whenever that was, it felt so real. It felt so scarily real. I feel a sickness form in the pit of my stomach. 

A phone begins to ping in the distance, it takes me a moment to realize that pinging is incredibly loud, and the phone is in fact my mobile, which is on the desk beside me. I sit up, rub my eyes again. The sickness gets worse. As soon as I stand, I throw up all over the floor, the towel dropping too, but that's not a big deal.

I look at the phone. It's Cat - she's messaging me. I stagger over, despite the sick on the floor. I pick the phone up and look at the message. It's nothing special, but talking to her feels weird this time. I remember how I felt about her in that flashback. I remember how mad I was, how angry she made me feel, as if it was only recent. But it wasn't.

I wonder if she knew about me and Phil - if there was ever anything to know. That's something I can't ask her. I won't ask her, not this time.

I suppose somethings are better off left unknown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates will slow (very very very briefly) because I have no internet connection for a week/possibly two. My apologies! I hope you're enjoying so far, and remember that feedback in any form is always welcomed! :)


	6. Bitch Fights

I wake up at five am with a banging headache and slight dizziness, yet the most unusual thing for me is the fact I didn't have a flashback and instead, for the first time in what feels like forever, I had an actual dream.

I know it wasn't a memory coming back or anything like that because PJ was there with me. I don't remember what exactly we were doing, but I remember him being there, smiling at me with his usual cute dorky smile. I remember running in the dream too, but I don't recall what I was running from. I used to think that it was weird not being able to remember dreams, like a part of you had been stolen from your memory. I don't think that way so much now, not when I've had my real memory 'stolen'. 

"You're up early Daniel," Dad says at half past six when he's finally got his arse out of bed and down the stairs. I'm fully dressed and ready in my uniform, sat on the sofa watching children's cartoons. There isn't much else to do this early in the morning, and I couldn't bear laying about in bed all that time with so much on my mind. 

"I couldn't get back to sleep," I shrug, leaving out that I didn't actually try to go back to sleep - it would only stress him out. "Don't worry though, I've taken my pill." Another lie. I crushed it up and washed it down the sink, which is habit at this point. I know my parents would be fuming if they found out, but that's because they think I actually need to take the pills, when in reality I don't. I'm not having delusions and I'm not lying, I'm having a weird form of flashback and they simply refuse to believe that. 

"So long as you do keep taking them," Dad grumbled, "Don't let yourself forget." I nod, not bothering to humor him with a verbal response and instead letting him get on with his morning routine, making breakfast and humming along to the radio.

He had set off to work by the time Mum came downstairs, her face twisted into a frown. "Are you alright Daniel? You're up early." 

"Woke up," I say, "Couldn't get back to sleep." I can't be arsed offering a more detailed explanation. What more could I really say about it? 

"Is that all?" Mum asks. I nod, but I can tell she isn't convinced. They can read me like a book, my parents seem to know if I'm lying, or at least they used to be. Maybe I'm getting better. If I'm lucky, they'll let it slide, and today is one of those times, as Mum simply shrugs and goes into the kitchen, leaving me to watch TV alone.

It's not until PJ has arrived when she finally speaks to me again, coming up behind me as I'm tying my shoe and PJ is stood before me, blocking the entire hallway. She's smiling though, which is a good sign.

"Morning sweetheart," She says to him, "Daniel, I forgot to say, you're going to be on your own again tonight for a few hours. Is that alright love?" 

"Okay," I mutter, not really caring. I prefer to be alone anyway; it's much better when they aren't in the house. 

"Maybe you could invite your friends round to keep you company," She suggests, looking straight at PJ. I hold in a sigh. There's no way I can get out of this one easily.

"Oh yeah," I say, forcing enthusiasm into my voice. "What time will you be home?" 

"Ten at the very latest," Mum replies, "But it's your Dad's work meal and he doesn't want to miss it. He has to make a good impression on the new boss. Anyway, there are some chicken nuggets in the freezer - and chips. Salad is in the fridge too. If your friends do come over-" She smiles at PJ,"-Then I'll leave you twenty pound on the side for some take away. You'll have to text me to let me know, don't forget." 

"Right," I say, "You coming then Peej?" I ask. I might as well ask now, there's no escaping it. Mum basically told me to ask, and it's not like he doesn't know about it. I suppose it could be fun, what's the worst that could happen? They're not that bad. 

"Yeah," PJ says, grinning from ear to ear. "Thanks." 

"Lovely," Mum chimes, "Have a good day then boys." 

-

The walk to school is drab and boring, but when we arrive at school there's a huge crowd around the gate. That's not really unusual, or at least it wasn't when I used to go here, but one thing that sticks out is the pure silence of the people around them. Nobody is stood screaming or chanting 'fight'. People are barely even moving - they're just watching completely shocked.

PJ and I both speed up, eager to see what's going on. "Lads!" Clarky yells, "Over here!" We break into a run up to Clarky, who is stood near the front of the circle - only recognizable from his bright ginger hair.

"What's going-" PJ shuts up. We can see what's going on - we can definitely hear it. PJ grabs my arm and I push through the crowd, trying to get a better view. 

Mackenzie's navy hair is distinct. I knew it was her from the moment I saw the colour - who else has hair like that? The curiosity of why she's getting circled by so many is what makes me want to push forward. 

There's another girl in the circle with her, only she's taller and looks nastier. I vaguely know who she is. I think her name is Maxine or something like that. She's slim and curve-less, yet really pretty. Her features are bold and her make up is strong. She has dark hair and heavy dark eye make up. I don't know much about her, but she isn't someone I'd want to piss off.

Mack has obviously gone and done just that. They're stood yelling inaudible things at each other, trying to be louder than the other. 

"You're such a fucking bullshitter Mack!" Maxine yells, "What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you a fucking dickhead? You're pathetic like oh my-"

"Shut the fuck up you fat slag," Mack screams, "I actually didn't lie so get your fucking facts right you idiotic bitch. Why do you even care? It's none of your fucking business! You only give a shit because you want to fuck him-"

"You wish you could shag him-" 

"This is the best banter we've had since Maxi smacked Freddy for calling her an emo fuck," The boy next to me whispers. The next thing I see is Mack ramming her fist into Maxine's face. Maxine grunts then grabs onto Mackenzie's hair, screaming obscenities.

"What's going on?" PJ gasps. I can see Connor beside Clarky at the other side of the circle, biting his lip in what's either concern or confusion.

"Shit," I respond. I feel it's an accurate summary. Maxine is trying to knee Mackenzie, but she grabs her leg and shoves her over - leg still in hand. Maxine slips to the ground and the crowd, including me, all make a weird 'umph' sound in either sympathy or encouragement.

"Knock her out!" Someone yells. I can't tell who they're supporting, I don't think they know either.

"You-" Mack kicks her, "Fucking-" And again, "Stupid-" Again, "Bitch!" 

That's when I know it's enough. The poor girl is groaning out each time. It's not right. I can't watch this and enjoy it. Instead, I rush in and grab Mackenzie's arms, yanking her away from Maxine, who's laid out on the floor, still yelling.

"Dan you knob!" Clarky yells. I keep yanking Mack back, and the circle opens, allowing me to pull her through it. People begin to walk away as they realize the fight is over.

"What the fuck was that for?" I ask Mack, eventually letting her go. She stumbles back and glares at me.

"You should have heard the bitch," Mack protests, "She was talking shit about me and Connor." 

"What did she say? Was it really that bad?" I mean, she was being brutal. Maybe she's always like that, I don't know, but it just seemed out of order to me. I don't like seeing that side of people.

"It's a long story," Mackenzie groans, "Like, it goes way back to like year ten." 

"I have time," I scoff, "We've got ten minutes to first period." 

"I'm skipping," She says, "You can come with me if you like, but there's no way I can go today after that. Maxine and her friends will slaughter me on sight and if the teachers find out about the fight, which is inevitable, they'll put me on report again." 

"You'll have to face them eventually," I tell her, "You can't skip." But suddenly, it sounds tempting.

" There's a Burger King round the corner," Mackenzie says, "I'll but you a burger if you come with me. I just don't want to face it now, today." 

"I can't skip all day," I protest, "They'll ring my mum..." But really considering it, skipping isn't that bad. I don't even have to skip all day. Maybe I could just pop in late, spin my mum a lie about them not marking me there all morning because they didn't do registration. It would be easy to bullshit about that. And with the look Mack is giving me, I'd feel bad leaving her on her own to skip. She needs a friend and I may not be the most qualified candidate but I'm the only willing one. "Just until break then." 

-

We sit down in a corner booth, our ties shoved into our bags so that we don't get questioned. Mack kept her promise and bought me a burger, which is nice of her. "So are you going to tell me what kicked off?" I ask between bites.

"She was being a bitch," Mackenzie sighs, shoving another fry into her mouth. I know she's trying to avoid talking about it, but I'm curious and if I'm skipping class with her this is the least she can do for me. I'm trying to get to know the dynamic between everyone in this year group - and I'm also really curious. 

"That's rather general," I say, rolling my eyes at her. "What did she say? I didn't hear the entire argument." I can't decide if that's a good thing or not. I mean, on one hand more context would have been nice, and I can't deny that it would probably have been entertaining, yet I know that it probably wasn't a pleasant experience for either of them and so getting entertainment from that...I think it's just kind of wrong.

"You didn't miss much," She tells me, "The mad bitch marched over to me and starting gobbing about how I've been shagging Connor." 

"You haven't though," I scoff, "Wait, have you?" That would definitely raise more questions, especially after what he told me the other day. I know how she feels about it, I had guessed it to begin with and Connor only confirmed my suspicion.

"No," Mack mumbles, hanging her head. I guess she wishes. "The rumor started not long before you moved. It was just before the summer holidays and me and Connor went to this party at Charles' house..." She let's her voice trail off, and bites another fry. I raise my eyebrows at her, signalling for her to continue. This must be the party Connor was telling me about. It'll be interesting to hear the other side of that.

"Did you get off?" I quiz, though I already know that isn't what happened. I don't want her knowing that Connor has told me anything and I doubt Connor would want that either.

"Not really," She admits, "You see, I saw him go upstairs and I thought I'd...well I wanted to get off with him. I decided that when he came back down I'd make a move or whatever, but he took the piss, so I went up. I found him...he was...he was sat on his own - so I just went for it and he pushed me off. That's all that happened, I swear. We sat and tried to talk about it, but you know how awkward we can both be, so it was kind of us both making excuses and bullshitting for twenty minutes before we fucked off back to the party. He seemed really upset." 

"Is that all?" I ask. There must be more to it, or maybe I'm just desperate for the gossip. My curiosity always gets the best of me.

"Yep," Mackenzie says, "We did nothing else, I swear. Maxine was there, she saw us go downstairs and she assumed that we'd had sex, so she went around telling everyone that. I got pissed off because it wasn't true. So anyway, I started telling people about her fucking Perry Baker behind Tesco and she got proper pissed off and then the other day I saw her with him and I told Dana, who like, freaked out because she was talking to Perry, and then when Dana quizzed her about it Maxine told her that I was only saying it because I was shagging them both and I didn't want her to think it was me-"

"I'm lost," I cut in. I lost track after she said Perry Baker. It took me a good five seconds to actually remember who he is, but now I do and I'm back ready to listen. Mack just sighs and shakes her head. I don't think I'm good with all this drama, I've missed out on too much. 

"It doesn't even matter," Mack grumbles, "It's no big deal. Pathetic girl drama, as Connor would say." She leans back, cramming more chips into her mouth. I put my burger down, getting serious.

"You really like him, don't you?" I ask. She nods, as expected. "He doesn't like you back at all?" 

"Never did," She mutters, "Why would he? I know he could have any girl he wanted, he wouldn't like plain old me." I kind of pity her. It's awful knowing you that you can't have something you want. I can tell Mack cares about him, and he's so easy to care about.

"You're far from plain Mackenzie," I reassure her, "You're so much cooler than any other girl I've seen at that school. Maxine isn't a threat to you." Maxine is pretty, a lot of the girls there are, but they're all so samey. Mack is different, or at least looks it, and I have to credit her for that.

"Thanks Dan," She chuckles, smiling weakly, "But trust me, I don't think Maxine is a threat to me. She looks like a rat." I laugh at that, despite how mean it really is. "I don't know who's a threat, that's the thing. I know he likes someone - I think he's seeing someone actually - I just have no clue who." 

"PJ?" I suggest, laughing, "Clarky? I know he spends a lot of time with them." She laughs along, flicking a chip at me. I tut at that - it's wasteful, therefore I eat the fry (five second rule). 

"It wouldn't surprise me to be honest," Mack giggles, "They're such benders. Complete virgins, all three of them." 

"I fit in well," I scoff. She raises her eyebrows at me, still laughing. I don't care that she thinks it's funny. I mean, I might not even be a virgin, I just don't remember doing it. I have more reason to think I have lost it, especially after that last flashback. Fuck. "Have you done it?" I ask, trying to get my mind away from that.

"No," She admits, "Just don't tell them that. Everyone thinks me and Freddy did it in year ten. We didn't, we just wanted people to think that..." I don't know if it's my facial expression, or just how stupid it sounds, but Mack shuts up and goes a horrible deep red. "I know, I'm lame. It sounds so much worse out loud." 

"I won't tell," I promise her, "I swear, your secret is safe. Who am I to judge? I can't even remember if I've done it." That must offer her some comfort because she breaks back into laughter.

"You know, some of the girls were talking about you in PE," Mackenzie says, "They were saying how fit you were. I reckon you could easily get a girlfriend if you wanted. Have you seen anyone that you like the look of?" Oh gosh, here it goes. I hate this stuff; I have no idea how to handle it. 

"Not really," I mumble, blushing. I don't want her to know about me yet. I don't think I want anyone to know about me. I wonder if anyone does know? Did I come out last year? Probably not. It doesn't sound like me. I'm not ready for something like that, and my poor Mum would have a heart attack. Cat knew, and Phil obviously knows, but aside from that I have no clue. Maybe Chris? 

Regardless, this time, I don't want anyone to know. It's a new start, a second chance, and I'm not fucking it up just yet. I don't even know how Mack feels about that stuff, if I just blurted it out right now how do I know she isn't going to be revolted? I can't trust anyone with something like that, not yet.

"There must be someone," She scoffs, "They're not all complete dogs." That's actually debatable, but I'm not down for a debate right now. 

"I just don't want to go out with someone younger than me," I lie. Age doesn't really matter to me, but it's the only excuse I can think of right now. "I mean, I get that they're mature and stuff, I just wouldn't feel right about it." 

"Fair enough," Mack replies, smiling lightly. I'm grateful that she isn't hassling me about it. "Are you finished with that burger?"

"I uh..." No. "Yeah, have it," I mumble reluctantly, forcing a smile as she reaches over and takes it from me. She did pay for it, to be fair. "I need to get back soon Mack, I can't skip all day anyway, PJ's coming to mine later." She raises her eyebrows.

"He'll love that," I swear I hear her say. I raise my eyebrows and she speaks up, "Getting your attention, I mean." Oh? 

"What?" I quiz, sitting up. What's so special about that? We aren't kids anymore. 

"Haven't you noticed?" Mack splutters, rolling her eyes, "PJ and Connor are like obsessed with you. It's pathetic. I think it's just because you're new, but whatever. No offense though- I mean-"

"No," I chuckle, "It's fine but...I mean, that's complete bullshit." 

"I know," Mack says, shrugging, "I mean, you know, yeah, probably. I just look too far into things." She smiles innocently. I smile back and nab a fry. She doesn't even seem to care.

"So are you going to go back to school, yeah?" Mack asks, but I'm caught off guard by someone behind her. He's tall, slim and dark haired. I know his face.

And his name, "Phil?" I call out. The Phil. Phil from my flashbacks. Phil who I kissed. Phil who kissed me. Fucking Phil?! He's there!

The man turns around, confused and glaring at me. I see then that his hair is swept the wrong way and his nose isn't quite right and he's too skinny to be the Phil I know - or knew. I can tell that's it's not my Phil. Way to fucking humiliate myself in public...

My head drops and I feel my face heat, avoiding eye contact with the fake Phil as he passes a glare in my direction. 

"Who was that?" Mackenzie asks, raising her eyebrows.

"Nobody," I sigh, "I thought I recognized him-"

"From before?" She gasps. I nod, nibbling my lip. I don't want to have to talk about what I remember, mostly because I can't be 100% exactly what it is that I remember, and also because I can't be arsed explaining something to her that she'll never understand. I'd sound crazy if I told her about the flashbacks.

"Kind of," I say, "Look, it's complicated-"

"I won't ask if you don't want me to," She cuts in, smiling. I smile back. I like her a little more for that.

"Thank you," I say.

"For what?" She scoffs.

"Understanding," I reply, because hell, it's hard to find people that do.


	7. Stolen Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is always welcome and encouraged, I hope you're enjoying it so far!

By the time I get back to school, it's break and PJ, Connor and Clarky are stood by a wall near the gate. I walk through unnoticed, the monitors completely oblivious to me, not that they really give a shit anyway, but being caught wouldn't exactly be a barrel of laughs on my part.

"Where's Mack?" Clarky asks as I walk back up to them, forcing a smirk.

"Nice to see you too William," I say, nodding at him. He rods me, then snorts, although my facial expression remains blank as I watch him laugh at himself. 

"Where is she though?" He asks, still smirking. 

"Taking the day off I think," I tell them, "She seemed alright though, not exactly traumatized by it. Do you even know what happened?" Connor avoids eye contact, with me, staring across the yard instead.

"Not really," PJ replies, "I've heard rumours but..." His voice trails off and he turns to look at Connor.

"Apparently Maxine told everyone that Mack's shagging Connor," Clarky says bluntly, "But that's obviously not true, because our Connor here is a complete virgin. Anyway, then apparently she was only saying that because in reality, Maxine is shagging Connor, but-"

"Oh shut up," Connor cut in angrily, "We get it. Half the year think I'm on it with Maxine, and the other half think I'm on it with Mackenzie." The way he says both of their names, riddled with pure disgust, tells me that he really isn't happy about those rumors. 

"Not the worst thing in the world," PJ says, smirking. I can't disagree with him, but I don't comment. Clarky laughs at that and I force a smile.

"I heard Maxine was with Perry though," Clarky says, "I mean, that's good though-"

"You only think that because Perry's ginger too," Connor slams, rolling his eyes. That time I laugh for real.

"No," I say, my eyebrows raised, "Perry is strawberry blonde?" Connor smirks and shakes his head. Clarky tuts at us both, clearly unimpressed by our mocking. PJ looks amused though.

"Dana's with Perry anyway," PJ says, "It's hard to keep track to be honest." I agree, but it's even more so for me considering I barely know half of these people. I should probably have remembered more from when I used to come here, but I never really paid attention to anyone outside of my own circle. I might try to change that this time, maybe it could be beneficial, but even if not it feels unavoidable with the amount of drama these lot seem to have constantly, not that any of it is of significant importance.

"I just want everyone to know that I'm not shagging anyone," Connor sighs.

"That's easy," Clarky shrugs, "Just announce your virginity in assembly or something. Post it on Facebook, or send a tweet? Then everyone will know-"

"You're not funny William," Connor grumbles, "I just don't want anyone to give a fuck about my sex life."

"Your non-existent sex-life," Clarky corrects him. Connor puts his middle finger up, but then decided to laugh it off - after all, Clarky isn't wrong.

"Who are you to talk?" Connor retorts, smirking, "William 'I've never kissed a girl' Clark." That clearly strikes a chord, and Clarky's face falls into an angry scowl.

"Piss off," He chunters, rolling his eyes. I kind of get why he'd be sensitive about that stuff, nobody wants to admit that they've never been kissed, but at the same time I just don't think that he should have to feel ashamed or embarrassed about it, but that's just me. Most people would be embarrassed about something like that, especially at 16 and in a school like this. 

"Sorry," Connor sneers, clearly insincere. "You started it." He adds, rolling his eyes. I chuckle at that, just because it makes him sound about twelve.

"Leave it," PJ sighs, "Nobody gives a shit about either of your boring love-lives." I wish I agreed with that, but part of me is really interested in their 'boring love-lives', mostly because I doubt I'll get my own anytime soon, and I'm really rooting for Clarky to get kissed to be honest. As for Connor, I can't help but wonder if maybe he is hiding something, as Mackenzie suggested. It would explain why he doesn't want people to know about it. Or maybe I'm just overthinking, as usual...

-

PJ comes over to mine after school, as planned by my lovely mother earlier. I'm actually okay with it, considering everything. Usually I just like to be alone, but I'm happy to have friends that seem to like my company, and I think this is the most friends I've ever had - from what I remember anyway. Plus, it's nice to catch up with PJ properly, we were really close as kids, but we both changed and I didn't think there was much common ground left.

I was wrong.

We're sat in my room, laughing our heads off at photo's from lazer shooting at his 9th birthday party. It was his idea to get the photo albums out, and I'm glad he suggested it. We look like such idiots back then, but it's absolutely hilarious to see.

He's small and plumper with a curly mop hidden under a heavy black helmet - completely unnecessary in lazer shooting, but it makes you feel more badass at the time. I'm no better than him - lanky and dressed in cream camo shorts, we're both posing with the guns and helmets like we think we're on the A-team or something. I remember it, but only vaguely. I can safely say it was a low point in my life aesthetically, and I'm sure nobody would disagree. 

"That was a good day," PJ giggles, picking up another similar photo, "Probably the best birthday I ever had."

"Your ninth?" I scoff, "I don't even remember mine properly, so I doubt it was anything special." Thinking about it, none of my birthdays have been all that special - mum never put effort in like PJs parents did. I just had a small party and ate cake, that was all it took for me to be content back then. 

"I do," PJ says, "We went bowling and that weird blonde kid won." I do vaguely remember that actually, and I do remember the 'weird blonde kid' he was called Joe and he used to scream a lot. I was friends with him up until I left. I wonder where he is now? Honestly, I've never thought to find any of my old friends from here before (PJ aside) but I don't think I'm missing out on anything amazing. If that was the case, we'd never have lost touch in the first place. 

"Your worst birthday?" I quiz, raising my eyebrows.

"Twelve," PJ mutters, "It was awful." 

"Year seven always is," I say. I didn't even have a birthday party in year seven. I only had like three friends, and I told them I had to do something with 'family' instead. They never quizzed me on that, thankfully.

"I had a big party," PJ explains, "Or at least I tried to. Mum made me invite all of my form, and only six people turned up. I didn't even want the party to begin with." I cringe for him, picturing poor little PJ stood alone waiting for his form to show up. No kid deserves that kind of disappointment on their birthday, especially not PJ. 

"Wow," I chuckle, trying to sound a little sympathetic, "I'd love to see photo's from that party." Although they'd make me cringe like hell, they'd definitely be funny. 

"You could've been there," PJ scoffed, "But you were ignoring me at that point." I blush at that. 

"I wasn't ignoring you," I lie. I was. There's no way to sugar coat it. I decided that I was too old, that he was too childish (which he kind of was) and I hadn't spoken to him in a year anyway, so when he turned up at the High School, I just acted like I didn't know him. He made new friends and I had mine. I was an asshole for that. 

"I ran up to you on that very first day and you looked at me like you'd never even seen me before," PJ recalls, the raw pain very clear in his voice. If I knew it meant that much to him I'd have said hi. I can't even remember the event he's referring to, and probably not because I lost my memory, but probably because it meant so little to me.

"Sorry," I mumble, "I was a little twat, what can I say?" I turn the page in the photo album, hoping it brings about a better topic than 13 year old Dan.

"Yeah," PJ chuckles, "You were. I was weird though, everyone thought so. You did too, didn't you?" I shrug. It was never that I thought he was weird, I just thought he was childish. Those are different.

"You weren't that weird," I say, "I've seen weirder." Which is true, I mean, my friends were a bunch of idiots before I moved away. I just wasn't in a position to pick and choose. Maybe it was the same for PJ.

"I got stuck with Clarky and Connor because they were weird too," PJ continues, "I think that's why we stuck together for so long. Nobody else likes us quite enough. Except maybe Connor, he could make new friends. Not Clarky though, he's a running joke in our year. Me? I'd be terrible, I'm far too awkward."

"You don't need anyone else," I tell him, "Connor and Clarky seem like alright people. Plus, it's a bit late to go round changing friend groups now. Everyone has their friends." And if PJ has tolerated Connor and Clarky for so long already, another six months won't hurt. 

"I know," PJ huffs, "I just sometimes wonder if maybe I should have found other friends. Maybe things would have been different. Like, if you'd have actually acknowledged me, maybe we'd have been friends. I would have never have spoken to them, you know? It's weird how things work out like that. One hello from you and everything would have changed." I can't help but think that's a bit far, but PJ dreams like that. He thinks I'd have spoken to him and we'd have been friends like we were as kids, but it doesn't work like that. I was never planning on re-connecting with him. This time I just had no choice. Who else do I have? Not that I'm ungrateful for this forced friendship, or anything like that.

Maybe PJ is right though, maybe all of this did happen for a reason. I just don't know what reason that would be.

"Things happened how they were supposed to," I say, "Anyway, ignoring you was my mistake. Let me regret that - you couldn't have changed anything."

"Yeah," PJ mumbles. I look down at the new page of photos and point one out to PJ, it's of me and Cat from when I was really young. He doesn't really know all that much about Cat, but I like the idea that if they met, they'd really get along. "Is that Cat?" He asks, giggling. I nod, also laughing. She's tiny and wearing a ripped bear suit. I'm sat beside her in some camo shorts (again?) and a vest. Wow, fashion was a strong point at age 5.

"I look like a hillbilly," I huff, shaking my head. PJ keeps laughing. "Why did my mum think this was an okay look? What possessed her to think 'yeah, let's dress this innocent small child in the ugliest clothes humanity has ever created?'." PJ keeps laughing, then his face turns deadly serious.

"Don't insult vests like that Daniel," He gasps, sarcastically (I hope?), "Vests are the foundation of the fashion industry." I giggle along.

"Of course," I say, "And Camo shorts are a Godsend."

"They're comfortable," PJ points out. I can't remember the last time I wore them, so that's not a point I can comment on, but I trust his judgement, giggling along.

"True beauty is pain PJ," I respond, shaking my head. He laughs again and turns the page again. It's just more boring photo's of my parents though, and we really don't care to see my mum and dad posing in front of things in foreign countries.

"Why isn't it in chronological order?" PJ moans, "These are from the nineties, and that's from like three years ago." I look at the contrast between the photos. Not much change really.

"I don't think my mum looks through these enough to care," I scoff, "And my dad probably won't even know that these exist." PJ giggles again. He's got a really contagious laugh, it's quite cute really.

"We have all ours in the attic," PJ says, "I haven't looked in years. I bet there are some of us as kids, more than in here anyway. I like looking at that stuff."

"I don't want to know what's in our attic," I shrug. Thinking about it, I haven't even been up in the attic in this house. My mum and dad just crammed a load of rubbish in there when we moved in. It's probably just all the Christmas decorations and stuff, maybe dirty old furniture that my mum is too sentimental to throw away.

"I love attics," PJ states, standing up, "Can we go up?" I'm not a big fan of the idea really, but I suppose there's not much else to do, and I don't see why it would be a big deal, there's nothing up there anyway.

"Fine," I say, "But I'm ordering the pizza first."

-

The ladders are the worst part of the whole attic thing for me. I always feel like I'm going to fall.

"You go up first then," PJ says, "If you fall, I'll catch you. Not that it's all that far to fall." I think it's two meters at most, but I still don't fancy falling.

"Fine," I grumble. I have my phone in one hand, the torch on so that I can find the light switch, and the other hand clinging to the bars as I climb up. It smells musty, of old things and dust. I kind of like the smell, but it's overwhelming.

"Can you see what's up?" He asks. I nod, pulling my leg up. I'm sat on wooden slats, unsure of whether they'll hold us both yet not willing to voice that uncertainty. The dim light of my torch highlights masses of brown boxes, mostly sealed and lined up, black marker staining the side of each. A rope hangs beside my head, connecting to a single light bulb in the middle of the roof. The insulation is covered by other slats of wood, and I lean across to pull the cord.

By the time PJ has hoisted himself up, the light is on, illuminating the small damp attic. "It's nice."

"Are we going to open those boxes?" I ask, smirking. They look tempting, and if we're not here to snoop, why are we here at all? It would be cool to find some childhood relics or something.

"Where do we start?" PJ replies eagerly. I crawl over to them, reading the writing on the side. Most of them are Christmas decorations and 'photo albums' or 'home videos'. The home videos would be cool but we don't have a video player anymore, so they're kind of useless.

"Try to find something that relates to me," I say. If there's going to be anything of interest, from my childhood or recent years, there will probably be some indication to that from whatever is written on the side of the box.

"There's this one," PJ exclaims, "It's called 'Dan 2004'." That sounds good enough. PJ pushes it over to me and I pull it open, ripping the cardboard. I don't think they'll notice.

Inside, there's a couple of cuddly toys, some tiny shoes, some children's books and a couple of loose photo's. I pick up one of the toys. It's a duck, small and fluffy, but the fur is a weird faded yellow and it's limp and matted now. I stroke it anyway, really feeling the sentiment.

"Do you remember any of that?" PJ asks quietly, "Like, properly? Do you reckon there are other bits you can't remember after the crash?"

"I have no idea," I reply, being as honest as I can. I know I remember a lot, but there's always a possibility that I didn't just forget that year. Maybe there are other memories that I lost. I wonder if I'll dream about any of those instead? That would be interesting - seeing the world from six year old Dan's perspective.

I drop the duck back in the box and slide it back across. It's just not what I was looking for.

What even was I looking for? I hadn't thought enough about that, I was just hoping that there would be something, anything, that could trigger another memory.

"Check the ones further back," I suggest, maneuvering my way to the back, knocking some boxes in the process. It's lucky none of them say 'fragile', or else mum really would notice someone had been up here.

"I can't get back there," PJ grumbles, "I'll keep checking these."

We must be searching for another five minutes before we find anything else of interest to us. I never knew mum had so many old vinyls and ornaments and things stored away up here. PJ has made his way to the back too by the time we spot something.

"Why is this one crossed out?" PJ asks. I scurry over, eager to see. Something was written on the box, but whatever it was has been furiously scribbled out beyond recognition. The only letter I can make out is 'D' at the start. I'm going to assume it's a D for Dan.

"That's weird," I say, but it feels almost like I'm looking into nothing. Maybe it's another empty box, or maybe it has meaningless things in. "Bring it out."

We sit down with it between us, balanced on two planks of wood. Sitting down isn't very comfortable up here, but I don't want to bring anything down. "Open it Dan."

I do as PJ says, but slower than last time - carefully peeling away the duct tape, making sure the box doesn't rip in the process. When the tape is off, I take a deep breath before actually opening the box - PJ watches intently. I don't know why this is so tense, it probably shouldn't be. What are we going to find? A dead body?

I look inside to see that it isn't a dead body - in fact, it's worse.

There's a brown envelope with my name written across in scruffy handwriting. Crumpled, bloody clothes are in the bottom. A note pad, some photographs, a key ring, a calendar - all from last year. I know they have to be because I don't remember them, yet I feel like I should.

"Oh," PJ gasps. He looks at me, searching for a reaction, but my face is solid as I stare into the box.

"They told me that they'd gotten rid of this stuff," I whisper eventually, my voice subconsciously shaking. "I never even asked..." Why didn't I ask? I should have. Would they have even told me? Oh my gosh. What the fuck? How did I not... My mind is buzzing with too much curiosity for me to keep contemplating how or why or what. I do something about it, grabbing something to have a look at. 

I pull the brown envelope out first. It's got to be of some importance if they kept it. Inside is one sheet of white paper, and as my eyes scan the sheets I realize that it's my GCSE results. Fuck.

"I did shit," I sneer, showing PJ. He reads the paper and smirks. "I got a D in maths, what a tosser. I used to be good at maths." I remember being in top set when I was here. I wonder what went wrong...

"I'm getting a D," PJ says, smiling weakly. I blush - he just had to make it awkward. 

"Oh," I respond, "Sorry - it's just because I used to get higher than that." He nods as if he understands, but he still looks offended. I put the paper back in the envelope and then back into the box. It isn't what I was looking for. The next thing I pull out is the key ring. It's one of those with a photo in it that you get at fun fairs. The image in it is of me and Cat, and then two people who I don't recognize at all going down a log flume. I wonder where Chris and Phil were then? And who are the people behind us?

PJ glances at it, but then looks away. I shove it in my pocket, making a mental note to ask Cat about it later. Maybe she can shed some light on the school situation too.

"Who's on the photo?" PJ asks.

"Just Cat," I shrug, digging back into the box and pulling out the photo's. They're pretty much all of me, Cat, Chris and Phil. All except one, which is of just me and Phil. We're laid down from what I can tell, and Phil is taking the photo (I don't want to use the word selfie, okay?), smiling up at the camera whilst I'm resting my head against his shoulder, my eyes shut. Oh Gosh.

I don't want PJ seeing that, it's not something I can explain - and not just because I don't remember it. The rest are all basic, platonic photo's of what looks to be a typical friend group, but this one isn't exactly 'platonic' or 'friendly'. I hand him the others, but I keep that one in my hand, refusing to let him see it.

"What?" He chuckles, "How humiliating can you look Dan?" Oh, he has no idea. Thankfully, he doesn't quiz me further.

He puts the photo's back in the box, but I take them out again, deciding to keep them. Maybe they'll help me remember (that didn't work last time, but...) and they're nice photo's anyway. Cat and Chris can probably provide answers for me.

"What else is in there?" I ask, diverting topic. He notices, I can tell, but he lets it go. I pull out the calendar. It's one of those typical ones, with the photo's of high rise buildings on every month. There's nothing written on the calendar either, just random red circles on some dates. I wonder what that means.

"Maybe you were tracking your menstrual cycle," PJ suggests, smirking. I laugh along because it's easier than forcing myself to think about why I'd circle random dates each month, and then put the calendar back.

I take out the notepad, but I refuse to look at it whilst PJ is sat there, afraid to see something I won't like. He seems understanding of this. "It's your past," He shrugs, "You don't have to tell me things that you don't even know yourself."

"Why are there clothes in the bottom though?" PJ asks. It was one thing I was avoiding. The clothes. I know what they're from, simply from pictures, and the blood stains. Why did my mum keep them? That I'll never know. I pull them out though, curious. The t-shirt is plain grey, spots of red across, and the jeans are black - too dark to see any stains properly. "Woah," PJ whispers when he realizes.

"I was wearing them that day," I mumble, "I never really asked about where my clothes had gone. Didn't even know I owned this top." It was probably a nice top too, minus the blood stains.

"As if your parents kept them," PJ says, "That's messed up Dan." I can't even bring myself to disagree.

"I wonder if they kept anything else," I sigh, "Maybe this is it all. I don't know why though - if they were never going to show me what was the point in keeping it?"

"I don't know-" The doorbell cuts him off. I know it's the pizza guy, because most people don't bother trying doorbells - none of them ever work. "Fuck yeah!" His mood changes, but mine doesn't. I'm still overwhelmed, but like PJ said - this is my past.

"Go get it," I tell him, "Twenty quid is on the side." He rushes down, leaving me alone. I look back in the box one last time, about to put the clothes back when I see something else. It must have been buries under the clothes, but I didn't even think to look for it. Mum told me it had been destroyed in the crash. Mum had lied to me, because there, in the bottom corner of the box it was:

My old phone.


	8. More Memories

_"Fuck off mate," I snort, playfully shoving him back. Chris chuckles and shakes his head at me._

_"If you think I'm annoying, just wait until you see Cassie," Chris says. I've heard a lot about this 'Cassie' and she seems really nice, but it's nerves again. I always panic when I'm meeting someone knew._

_"Chris, Cat and Cassie?" I quiz, raising my eyebrows. Chris raises his eyebrows._

_"C crew," He replies, smirking, "C for coincidence."_

_"Is she fit?" I ask, raising my eyebrows. Chris laughs at me. I don't know whether I should be offended by that or not._

_"Yeah," Chris says, "But it's not like you're interested is it?"_

_"Why wouldn't I be?" I inquire. My phone flashes up and I check it, then clear the notifications. My lock screen is a photo of me and Phil from the other day, probably my favourite of us ever, but it probably wasn't a good idea setting it as the lock screen because there's no simple way to explain why two guys are laid down (very close) together shirtless._

_"That cheeky selfie on your lock screen is probably a good indicator of why," Chris replies, his voice softer as if he's trying to show he understands. "Go on then, give me the easy explanation of it. Lie to my face about it again, I don't mind. But there are other things. I've seen it all Dan."_

_"I never lied to you about it," I whisper. I can feel my cheeks going red and my legs beginning to shake as something stirs up in my stomach. Chris knows now. There's no going back from that. It wasn't like we were going to cover it up forever though, but it's still scary to think that it's no longer 'our little secret'. I should feel worse about the fact that Chris supposedly 'likes me' but I don't, mostly because I refuse to believe that, regardless of how much Phil does._

_"I asked you if you two were seeing each other," Chris reminds me, "You said no. You promised me that you two were just friends and it was all nothing-"_

_"I'm sorry," I cut in, remembering it. I recall him and Cat asking me a lot actually. I always told them no and so did Phil. We liked it being our little secret but then Cat just had to go and ruin it and now..._

_Now Chris too. He's taking it better than Cat though - or at least he seems to be, she's still pissed at me for lying for so long._

_"You didn't have to hide it," Chris tells me. I knew that. I knew they'd support us, but it doesn't stop the fear from creeping in and asking me 'what if they don't' or 'what if they tell'. It was safer to keep it quiet. "I've been suspicious for ages. You two were always sneaking around."_

_"Don't tell anyone Chris," I plead, "Please, we didn't want people to know because we aren't ready for that and I just can't deal with people looking at me differently or whatever. I just really don't like the idea that people know what's going on-"_

_"I'm not going to tell," Chris ensures me, "I'm not a twat. How long has it been going on for?" I know this will make him angrier, it definitely fueled Cat's fire. I could lie, but there's no point, he'll find out anyway._

_"About two months," I confess, "It started that day you and Cat pushed me into the little mud pond thing-"_

_"Fucking called it," Chris gasps, "Cat thinks it started before that, but it was after that day you two started meeting without us and I knew something was going on."_

_"We just hung out," I lie, blushing._

_"Is that what that photo is from?" Chris sneers, "Just hanging out? I bet your dicks were hanging out too-"_

_"Fuck off," I yell, shoving him again. This is partly why I didn't want Chris to know - he's going to mock me now. I can take it, I'm not a complete baby, but I'd just rather not have to. "We haven't even-"_

_"Liar," He chimes, "Liar!"_

_"We haven't!" I protest._

_"You can tell me," Chris says, "I won't tell anyone. Come on Dan, spill all the juicy details - is it big?"_

_"No," I spit, "I mean no to spilling details. It is b- I think anyway - well I mean...oh just stop it Chris. You know what I mean!"_

_"Called that too," Chris chuckles. I raise my eyebrows, maybe it's Phil that he fancies? I wouldn't blame him for that. But still, I groan, wondering why the fuck Chris has to be like this, he's just so irritating sometimes. "I think I see Cassie." I look up._

_There aren't many people about, considering it's winter and this is a park, but approaching is a tall brown haired girl. Her hair is braided messily and she's wearing a yellow winter coat bigger and brighter than my future. She's grinning wildly too, so I assume this is Cassie._

_"She is pretty," I say to Chris, referring back to my original question._

_"I told you that," Chris shrugs. I chuckle, then smile at the girl who is almost only a meter away._

_"Hiya!" She squeals, waving both her hands. "I'm Cassie!"_

_"I know," Chris scoffs, frowning. We both laugh at him._

_"Not you silly," She says, chuckling before turning to me, "You're Dan?" Her voice is really high pitched._

_"I am," I reply, smiling. She seems nice enough. Maybe it's just the bright smile, but I'm getting positive vibes from her. "Good to meet you."_

_"You too," Cassie says, "Phil talks about you all the time." Chris giggles and I nudge him. He better not say anything. I'm glad Phil talks about me though, that's nice to hear. I know him and Cassie are good friends, that's how everyone else met her, but I never have - until now._

_"Really?" I ask, "Anything good?" I don't want to sound too interested, but it would be nice to hear what he thinks about me._

_"Everything good," She chuckles, "You sound lovely from what he said! I trust he's right, Phil mostly is." That's true..._

_"Good to hear," I say, smiling fondly._

_"Has he said anything about me?" She asks as we set off walking. I don't want to lie to her, but I think I have to. Phil only mentioned her because he said that he'd reconnected with an old friend. Chris and Cat got excited and I realized it was just something else I wasn't there to know about. He did say she was nice, but he didn't exactly build her up to be amazing or anything. He just said she was nice and bubbly, and Chris said she was annoying. When I asked Cat, she just laughed then pulled a face. I have no idea what that means and I never bothered to inquire. They all wanted me to meet her, and the rest of their outer circle, so that we can hang out in bigger groups for whatever reason. I just think it's because they all get bored of each other._

_"He said you were nice too," I respond._

_"Is that all?" She asks, sounding kind of disappointed._

_"Well he just talked about how you met," I explain, "And he said you were really nice and friendly. Why does it matter?" Chris coughs loudly. He looks kind of distressed. The smile is gone from Cassie's face. There's definitely something I don't know about here._

_"It doesn't," She says, her voice still bubbly. She chuckles again, "I just hoped he'd have more to say about me. We did date for two years, after all." My stomach twists._

_"Mcdonalds then?" Chris asks, trying to change subject. I nod, but my stomach is churning as I realize they all purposely avoided telling me about that. How could they not tell me that she was his ex? I wouldn't have minded, it would have been nice to have a heads up, is all._

_"Mcdonalds it is," Cassie chimes._

-

I wake up, bolting up. I don't feel sick this time, but the dizziness is just as bad. Oh gosh. More memories, more people, more confusion. What the fuck was that with Phil? I wish I knew exactly what I was thinking at that moment, but it's all botched and warped. I can never quite get back into my head.

I look at the clock, it's reading five am. I'm glad I've woken up early just because it means I can reset my old phone.

I spoke to Cat last night about the things I found in the box. As soon as PJ left I was messaging her. My mum is clueless I've even entered the attic. She'd flip if she knew what I'd found. Part of me wants her to figure out I have them though, just because I'd really like to quiz her on why she kept them from me but I don't want to be the one who starts that conversation. 

I charged the phone up last night whilst I slept. By now it should be fully charged and ready to be used, if there's anything still on it. Hopefully they weren't smart enough to delete anything.  
I also checked the notebook, but that was kind of a dead end - I can't figure anything in it out. It's all just bullshit to me, homeworks or doodles or notes to myself, nothing of any key importance.

I climb out of bed and pad across the room, kneeling down and pull the phone off of charge, then retreating back to my bed. I turn the phone on, crossing my fingers on one hand. I know that if I find something on this phone it could change everything, but I'm ready for it. I need something to enlighten me. Plus, after that last dream I'm more curious. Who the fuck is Cassie?

I don't like the feeling I get in my stomach when I think of Phil, but I can't imagine how it must have been for me back then. It does make me question how far I went with him, how deep in I was. Did I love him?

I can't imagine it getting to that. I'm not the falling in love type, as nice a thought as it is.

I'm sure Phil was great though...

The phone turns on, buzzing twice before it asks for a password. Oh fuck. I didn't think of that. I type in my current password, hoping I've always had the same. I'm wrong. I type in my birthday instead, wondering if I was that simple. Wrong again. I go for the obvious, hoping I was that simple: 0000, and I'm in luck. The phone unlocks.

I feel almost sick with excitement as well as nerves as I look on the phone. It's as if it was being used yesterday. I feel even sicker when I see that the lock screen is the same photo as it was in my last dream. I wonder how long before the crash that was? It had to be a while because I remember it was cold in dream so possibly winter, but then again this is England so there's no way I can be sure. It's something I'll have to check with Chris. 

There are 42 texts/messages and 18 missed calls. I wonder if they're from old friends? I don't check. The first place I look is the photo library, and I see pretty much what I expected: a load of stupid selfies with people, most of whom I recognize (Cat, Phil, Chris and Cassie) and then a couple of others who are kind of new to me, although some nameless people pop up in dreams every now and then who I can't properly remember.

The most recent photo is one of me and Phil. We're in a car, grinning wildly. The date informs me that it was on the day of the crash, and the time suggests it was in fact only minutes before. A shiver runs up my spine. This was the last photo we took before...

We look so happy in it too. I wonder where we were going? I've never properly considered that before. Now, looking at the photo, I feel like I should have. It's a shame Phil doesn't have social media, maybe he remembers it all.

I hope he does. There seems like there was a lot of good stuff to remember. Maybe one day I'll remember it all too.

The photo's from before that are equally as interesting, and definitely provoke some thought. I look happy, which I never thought I would be. On a lot of them I'm with Phil, so maybe whatever it was we had lasted, and I'm with Cat and Chris on a lot too.

I feel the tears well up before they actually begin to fall. I feel dumb for crying over some stupid photos of myself, but I just want to remember. It's as if I'm looking at an entirely different person. That boy in those photo's isn't me. He can't be. That boy looks happy and free and okay, but here I am.

I guess that Dan did die in the crash.

By the time my actual alarm rings to wake me for school, I'm almost all the way through the photos, and I'm all cried out.

Once I'm school ready, I put the phone in my blazer pocket and head downstairs. I don't want my parents knowing I have the phone until I've finished looking at it, and then maybe I'll ask them about it. I wonder how far they'll go to cover it up. Would they lie to my face again?

I hate to think it, but it wouldn't surprise me at all. I know they're hiding something, and it's only a matter of time before I find out what.

Maybe it's Phil they don't want me to remember. Or maybe it's something else I did. I wonder if they even knew about me and Phil? I doubt it. No matter how happy I may have been, I would never have been stupid enough to tell them. But who knows?

If those photos are anything to go by, I don't think that boy would have cared. Things change - I certainly have.


	9. Good Change

The next couple of months seem to blur by. It's like time just flew by, I didn't even realize.

It's November now, and I've actually managed to settle in at school. I've fallen into a routine now though: Wake up, note down the 'dream' (they're still almost every night, or sometimes I just pass out, but I don't tell anyone about that), I tell Cat or Chris or Cassie if it's anything interesting (who I also reconnected with - plus a few others who I remember less of), go to school, hang out with my friends and occasionally skype with Cat. 

I keep begging her to meet up with me, but she always makes excuses, as if she's always busy. I just need to see her again though, and hopefully Chris and Phil - who apparently doesn't have any social media at all. I hope they've told him about me. Whenever I ask about him, they veer the topic away, maybe they don't see him as much. 

Judging by the some of the things I've remembered from the dreams, Cat and Chris really didn't like me and Phil together (because yes, it did become official, like really official). Maybe they had an argument with him or something, that's my bet. It would make the most sense. 

My parents still don't know about anything I recovered from the attic that day. They think I'm accepting the situation, and Mum doesn't make me go to counselling now, which is better as it means Saturdays are free to spend all day talking to my old friends, or maybe even my new ones. Connor, PJ and Mackenzie aren't actually as close knit as I originally thought, and they do actually talk to other people, not often, but sometimes, so I've had to start talking to those people too, we're all in a group chat. They're okay actually, quite funny. 

I've started spending all Sunday's at Connors, just to get out of the house. We hang out a lot actually, mostly playing video games. We teach each other stuff and go on shitty multi-players, but it's always funny. If we don't go on games we'll just talk for the entire day, and that's fun too. Or sometimes we go for walks, but we're both considerably lazy and it's a big place to go wondering round with no direction. Connor is seriously fun though, I like spending time with him over PJ or Clarky. Clarky gets a bit much and PJ just isn't as funny or interesting, even though he tries to be.

"I think he knows we hang out more," Connor says. "He was asking me the other day about all the 'inside jokes' we supposedly have." We both laugh at that. We do have a lot of inside jokes, but it's not like we really say them in front of the others. I didn't even realize that PJ had picked up on it.

"Like what?" I scoff, shaking my head.

"I don't know," Connor chuckles, "We never say them in front of the others! But he was quizzing me about what I do on Sundays, even though I've told him the same bullshit story since year seven. I think he's realized." Connor and I have never really lied to them about about me spending more time with him, we've just never really told them, so it's not the same as out right bullshitting them. I'm not saying that if they did ask we'd be brutally honest, but still...

"Probably," I say, "He asked me to come out with him today actually - maybe he was testing me-"

"He's onto us mate," Connor gasps sarcastically. I roll my eyes at him, giggling. "Better watch out!" 

"Seriously though," I sigh, "Why does he care?" It makes no sense to me. PJ's gets grumpy about anything these days. He even had a go at Mack the other day, said she was being an annoying bitch just because she was complaining about her geography teacher giving her a detention. 

"Isn't it obvious?" Connor asks, raising his eyebrows at me. I shake my head. Should it be? I must be missing something. "He's jealous Dan." My stomach twists. That's not right, it can't be. PJ isn't the jealous type, and there's nothing to be jealous of?

"I don't think so," I mutter, breaking eye contact with Connor to stare his bedroom floor. "I mean, why would he be? What is there to be jealous of?" There's at least two minutes of dead silence. I keep my eyes locked on the floor, but I can feel Connor staring at me. I'm definitely missing something.

"Dan..." His voice is serious for once. I look back up at him. He looks almost concerned, his forehead creased and mouth hanging open as if he wants to say something, but can't quite get the words out. 

"Seriously?" I scoff, acting as if I still don't get it, "What?" Connor closes his mouth, sighs, then looks back up at me.

"I think he just wanted you to like him better," Connor shrugs, his tone back to sounding more casual, "Before you moved, he used to talk about you all the time, like you were amazing friends and stuff, he was so excited to see you again, and I think when you weren't as excited as he was about the big reunion or whatever you want to call it, he got pissed off. Now he's annoyed because you're giving me more attention than him." 

That wasn't it. I can tell.

"Oh," I say, then I begin to laugh, "Well I'm honored that you all value my attention so much." Connor rolls his eyes at that.

"No," He says, "PJ values your attention. I have no strong feelings about being your favorite, and Clarky definitely doesn't give a toss." I laugh at that.

"So you don't care that your my favorite?" I ask, "Rude." I realize after the words have left my mouth, that I should have probably used better phrasing, but it's a little bit late. 

"I never said that," Connor replies, his voice is normal, but there's almost an edge to it, like he's not really joking. I gulp, once again refusing to even think about whatever it is that keeps whispering in the back of my mind. I can't listen to it. I don't want to know.

"So you know you're my favorite?" I quiz, smirking. His smirk matches mine and we're both holding back giggles. It's always like this. We're supposed to be playing video games, teaching each other, but we always end up warped in conversation - mostly taking the piss out of Clarky, but more recently things like this have been happening, and I'm not sure what to make of it all. 

"I do now," Connor shrugs, the smirk turning to a real smile. "It's cute." I push him for that, my hand lightly forcing his shoulder back. He rocks over on the bed, chuckling.

"Cute," I mock, shaking my head at him, "Fuck off." He laughs harder.

"Fine," He says, sitting back up and grinning, "You're my favorite too." And that's when I feel it - the almost but not quite dizziness. The wave running over my brain. The familiar ache in my body.

Deja vu.

"You alright Dan?" He asks, shuffling forward and putting a hand on my shoulder. "You look really pale-"

"I'm fine," I say, shaking it off. I can't think about Phil right now. As much as I like thinking about Phil, there's a time and a place. I haven't even told anyone about him. I don't want people to question me too much, and I can't handle the judgement of it all.

Every time Phil appears in a flashback, I wake up aching for him, and it's horrible. Thinking about him now is bad too. I just want to forget again, not forever, but right now I don't want to have to think about any of that. I brush it off and rub my eyes.

"Dizzy spell," I mumble. Connor's arm slides further around me and I find myself leaning against him, burying my head in his shoulder just to avoid having to think about it. My own arm drapes around his waist, as if it's the perfectly normal thing to do, but I know it's not, and so does he.

We fall back regardless, laying back on his bed, my head still buried in his neck. I don't want to open my eyes and face him right now, he must be more confused than me.

We're not really the touchy-feely type, but we sometimes have odd moments of spontaneous play fighting and what not. PJ is the grabby one, but Connor isn't usually, unless it's with me. I've seen him literally shudder when Mack has hugged him from behind, yet he seems perfectly fine laid like this with me. I know what that should mean, but I don't want to think about that. Not right now. I just want to shut my eyes and make everything go away. 

"Dan," He whispers, after what must have been over five minutes of awkward yet comfortable laying.

"Connor," I respond. I feel his other hand land on my waist, but other than that, we don't move. I'm not eager to if I'm being honest, and despite every cell in my brain screaming at me to stop, and reminding me of how wrong this is, I don't care to move for a long time. 

"I think this is what PJ is jealous of," Connor confesses. My stomach twists, and suddenly I do feel the urge to move, because now, suddenly that makes perfect sense. I should have known.

I should have fucking known.

"Dan," He whispers again. His hand moves from my waist to my hair, running his fingers through it softly. I don't want to admit to liking it, and I do my best to not respond physically. 

"He isn't jealous," I tell him, but I'm not telling him really, because Connor already knows. I'm telling myself. I'm lying to myself. It has to be done because I'm not ready to think about otherwise. It's too much right now. "He's not jealous, Connor. He doesn't know enough to be jealous." 

"Maybe he's worked it out," Connor suggests. My arms tighten around him, but not because of him, just because I'm growing more afraid of this conversation and being held (even if it is by him) makes me feel a hell of a lot safer. We weren't supposed to have it - not yet. I mean, I knew it was coming. The way Connor always looked at me and spoke to me and that stupidly cute secret smile...It was obvious. I tried to avoid it though, just like I tried to avoid this. Avoiding it doesn't make it any easier to deal with.

"Worked what out?" I ask. I know the answer, but I'm not sure that Connor does.

"That you're into me," Connor replies, then quieter, he adds, "That I'm into you." He does know the answer.

"I didn't even know you were into boys," I lie. I'd had an inkling when I realized how much he lacked interest in girls. He just didn't care, not like Clarky and PJ did. I always thought that was odd and even I played along to the whole girl thing. Connor worked me out anyway.

PJ though, PJ is definitely straight. He isn't into me. He isn't into Connor. He's into girls, maybe even Mackenzie. Anyone but me or Connor. PJ is PJ, if he were even a little bit gay, I'd know about it by now. I don't even want to think about the possibility of him being gay, mostly because I don't want to think about what it would mean for us both. If PJ is gay, or even bi, I'll have to face up to something I can't. 

"I thought the constant inviting you over gave it away," Connor scoffed, "Was I too subtle?" I almost giggle. He tightens his grip around me and and adjust, making it so that we're properly cuddling now. It reminds me of how it was with (what I remember of) Phil: strong and safe. Only it makes me feel guilty to think of Phil right now. Is it bad of me to move on? I have to one day, but maybe it's better if I find out what happened to him first. Maybe he's still hung up on me? I don't see why he would be but...

"I just didn't want to think about it," I admit, "You rejecting Mack gave it away." 

"I didn't reject her," He sighs, "Not in the way you think. I kind of lied about...well, I told you about her trying it on with me, didn't I? And she told you a story about that party too, didn't she?" That was so long ago, I don't remember much about it, but she did. I remember they almost made out, but he said no and she got a bit pissy. How much more can there be to that?

"What happened?" I ask, awkwardly shuffing so I'm leaning on my elbows. Connor shifts with me, keeping a hand on my shoulder, just below my neck.

"She caught me getting off with this guy," He confesses. I raise my eyebrows, kind of surprised. "I won't tell you who, for his sake, but we were really going for it, tongues and everything. Then she just burst in and..." I can't imagine how mortifying that must be.

"Did she freak out?" I inquire, curious. Connor shakes his head. I notice how red he's gone. This isn't as easy for him as he's making it sound. 

"Not as much as I thought she would," Connor says, "She kind of just stared and then the guy walked out, hasn't spoken to me since. She sat down, sobbed on my shoulder. I told her the situation and she hasn't mentioned it since."

"So she knows you're gay," I mumble. That makes sense. She covered for him that day in McDonalds, which is sweet of her I guess.

"Does anyone know you're gay?" He asks. I shake my head.

"You do," I say, stating the obvious, "We can't tell anyone though, can we?" He shakes his head, which I'm glad of. I don't want anyone to know this time.

"Never," Connor scoffs, "We'd get slaughtered by the others at school." He isn't wrong, there's nobody in our year that can act even remotely camp and get away without being verbally abused. It's just the way things are and I'm used to it by now, as sad as that is.

"I don't want anyone to know anything anyway," I tell him. Whatever the fuck this is, it's our business. PJ can think what he likes, but he can't ever know really. 

"Me neither," Connor says, "Three people know and nobody else needs to." 

"Do I know this other guy?" I ask. He nods, then shakes his head. I'm not sure what that means.

"I don't want to talk about it," He sighs, "Have you ever, like, been with another lad?" I want to be honest with him, but instead I just shrug. I have, but I'm not supposed to remember that, and it's not something I can explain to Connor right now without him probably freaking out.

"I think so," I mumble, "I just don't remember it, but Cat says I have." That's not exactly a lie. Cat has told me things about my relationship with Phil that I didn't know from my flashbacks. Apparently his parents didn't know a thing the entire time, until very nearly the end (I still don't know about mine) but we used to go back to his place all the time to 'hang out alone'. 

"Do you think that you..." He doesn't need to finish it. I know what he's going to suggest, and I also think I know the answer. I'm pretty sure I did go 'there' with Phil, and Lord knows I'm dreading that dream coming along. 

"Yeah," I admit, feeling my face flush. Connor just laughs. 

"I wanted to with uh, that guy," He says, "But he won't even talk to me now." 

"His loss," I shrug, trying to comfort him. I can't think who it could be, and it's probably not in my best interest to go digging, but I can't help be curious. "My gain." I add, burying my head into his neck. He giggles.

"What does that mean?" Connor asks, looking down at me. I smile at him, then before I know it, we're both leaning in until our lips meet and we're kissing. It's not a bad kiss, soft and wet but kind of messy. 

I know it's wrong. I know I'll regret this at some point, but right now, it's what I want, even if I'm not sure why I want it - I don't even like Connor that much, but here I am, and I don't want to pull away just yet.


	10. Learning

_The theme park was a bad idea, I said that from the start, but Phil insisted we went along anyway._

_I had to lie to my parents for this, told them it was a school trip (I even forged a letter) just to get them to agree to me going. My friends don't know that though, except Phil, but he won't tell them. It's a bit embarrassing how over protective they actually are; I'd get killed if they found out what I was really doing right now._

_"My legs are aching," Chris complains, leaning back against the metal bar. All he's done all day is complain, but nobody points that out._

_"Tough shit," Marcus huffs, rolling his eyes. I can tell he's bored by Chris's constant negativity, but he's trying not to snap at him. We all are. He was pretty pissed off earlier, and everyone is tip toeing around him so that he doesn't freak out again. Me and Phil especially - I feel awful._

_"We'll get to sit down soon anyway," Cassie shrugs, smiling. Quite the opposite of Chris, and the rest of us, Cassie is really positive and patient. She's been so lovely, I can see why Phil used to like her - 'used to' being the important phrase there._

_"Only for two minutes," Chris mutters, "Log flumes are shit anyway." I suck in my cheeks, trying to restrain myself from saying something back to him. We only queued up for the log flume because Chris said it would be a laugh. He's changed his tune._

_"It'll be fun," Cat insists, "We're nearly at the front anyway, so we're not cutting out of line now!" It's long queues for everything anyway, so we've got used to the constant waiting. We thought it would be quiet on a weekday, but we were wrong._

_"If you don't want go on you can wait on your own," Marcus says, frowning at Chris, who glares back at us all as if we've just told him we detest him and everything he loves. I force a smile anyway, trying to discourage him from doing that. I don't want him to feel left out or anything, even though he's obviously only excluding himself. We've done everything today for him out of pure pity, but I think some of us are running out of that._

_"Fine," Chris snaps, "I will." And just like that, he marches off through the line, shoving through everyone. We watch him for a minute, stunned, before the queue begins to shuffle forward and we realize that we're next._

_"Is anyone going to go after him?" Cassie asks, biting her lip, "I feel bad-"_

_"He's being pathetic," Marcus snorts, "Let him sulk a bit. He isn't ruining my day." I wish I could have that attitude, but I just feel too guilty about it. If anyone's, it's my fault that he's so down today, but it's not like there's anything I can do about it._

_"I should go and talk to him," Phil suddenly pipes up, looking back at where Chris ran, "I feel bad-"_

_"Don't bother," Cat sighs, "You're the one he's pissed at, Phil." Phil looks at me and I flash him a sympathetic smile, unsure of my own stance here. I don't want him to go, truth be told, but only because we'll be down in a couple of minutes anyway. There's no point!_

_"Exactly," Phil counters, "This is my fault. I need to fix it." Clearly, Phil doesn't see this how I do, and he too runs back down line._

_"Phil!" I try to call him back, but he doesn't even look round at us once he's set off running. I sigh, not bothered enough to also join the wild goose chase. "Well fuck."_

_"Leave them to it," Marcus shrugs, "Hopefully Phil can actually chill him out, though I doubt it." I hope so too, but I have more faith in him than Marcus. Phil and Chris have been friends for years. It would be idiotic for them to keep acting so hostile around each other. I'm not worth losing a friend over, and I don't see why Phil thinks so, but nor do I see why Chris thinks I'm worth being jealous over. I hate that he likes me, and I hate that he's blaming Phil for this._

_"How many?" The ride attendant asks, forcing a smile. Cat holds up four fingers, and the attendant direct us to the cart pulled up. The log flume isn't exactly the speediest ride, taking us around some decorated tunnels and along corners and down tiny bumps, before we actually go down the big drop. It's fun, and for a minute or two I forget about Chris and Phil, just enjoying the fact I'm here with friends rather than back at school. There's a camera that snaps a picture as we go down the drop, capturing us right as we're screaming our tits off._

_We get off and go to the stand to look at it, laughing upon sight. Cat was at the front, mouth open and arms up, half blocking Cassie behind her, who's also laughing and her hair is blowing back so she kind of looks like a boy. I'm behind Cassie, also screaming, and Marcus is behind me looking as if he's fearing for his life. Cat buys a copy of the photo for her scrap book, and I buy one in key ring form so it's small enough to hide from my parents._

_We go around the corner then, back to our search for Phil and Chris. I had expected them to be waiting at the exit or entrance to the ride, but they're nowhere to be seen._

_"They won't have gone far," Cassie says, but the panic is clear in her tone, "Just...just give Phil a call. Maybe they went somewhere more private to talk, right? That makes sense-"_

_"No it doesn't," Marcus spits, glaring at the spot where we'd hoped Phil and Chris would be waiting, "Just ring them."_

_I'm the first to get my phone out and call, but there's no response - it doesn't even ring, just going straight to answer phone. "Phil's phone is off."_

_"I'll try Chris," Cat says, getting her own phone out. She has the same result as me, but regardless keeps trying to call._

_"We're going to have to go and look for them," Cassie huffs, "I doubt they'll be somewhere too far."_

_"This is bullshit," Marcus scoffs, shaking his head, "Chris is fucking pathetic for doing this, you know?" Nobody disputes his point, which is almost rather sad in reality._

_"Let's start by looking this way," Cat suggests, brushing off Marcus's comment and pointing to the left, "We were heading down there after all."_

_-_

_We're searching for an hour before we eventually find them stood by the exit - they're in deep conversation when we approach. Marcus and Cat are angry, Cassie is crying and I'm just relieved, sympathetically holding my arm around her._

_"You arsehole!" Marcus yells, prodding Chris, who shrugs him off._

_"We're fine," Chris snaps back, "I was going to come back!"_

_"I've only just found him," Phil explains, "He ran off when he saw me coming over and I felt bad letting him just run-"_

_"Neither of you fucking idiots thought to ring?" Cat asks, glaring, "We were worried sick-"_

_"I can take care of myself," Phil says, quietly as if he doesn't quite believe that himself. I believe it though, I may be the only one._

_"So can I," Chris hisses, "I'm not a fucking baby and I'm sick of all of you pitying me and treating me like I'm fragile or something-"_

_"What the fuck?" Cat snorts, raising her eyebrows at him. "You've been a selfish twat all day and we've been trying to make you feel better so you wouldn't shit on it for us all-" Chris laughs, cutting her into a silence._

_"You can't make me feel better," He snaps. Chris flashes me a cold look and I feel guilt riddle through me, "I was fine before you started rubbing it in my face. I don't care that you don't like me, Dan, so pull your head out of your arse! I only care that we're supposed to be friends and now you're together I don't matter anymore-"_

_"This jealous bullshit has to stop," Marcus groans, clearly furious, "Thanks for wasting an hour of my life with your petty performance." And with that sweeping statement, Marcus storms off in the other direction. Cat is quick to follow, with Cassie tagging along. Me? I just stand, staring at them both, unsure of pretty much everything._

-

I wake up feeling light headed, but not as bad as usual. I note down the dream, shuddering at the memory of it. The more I remember of last year, the darker things seem to be getting.

Chris liked me, I've worked that out. I also know Cat liked this Marcus guy and I think they had a bit of something going on and Cassie liked Phil, and they used to go out too. Marcus is there a lot, along with someone called Joe (he wasn't there tonight, I wonder why?) but they've both got in touch with me, and they seem nice. Especially Marcus, despite his out burst at the theme park - though maybe that was justified. With that in mind, I decide to message him. 

**Dan: I had another dream, I think it was important.**

He replies straight away, which is surprising to say it's only seven am on Monday.

**Marcus: What happened? Was I there? + are you ok?**

**D: I'm fine, just confused. We were at a theme park, dunno which, but Chris had stormed off because of something to do with me and Phil stormed off too and we had all gone looking for them. I know he liked me or something, but I don't know how bad it got. I once asked Cat but she always veers off this stuff, she hates answering my questions now.**

**M: You deserve answers though + yeah, that happened, he was upset because you kissed Phil in front of him that morning so he yelled at you both. You really fucked up that day + he got really mad. I never really found out how you resolved it, but you did, if that helps you at all.**

This is why I appreciate him, he doesn't sugarcoat shit for me, and he tells me what I need to know. 

**D: Right, yeah, thanks. I don't like asking Chris about this stuff, and asking Phil isn't an option.**

**M: If I could get you in touch with him I would.**

**D: Thanks mate.**

We leave it there, and I go about my usual day; pretending to take pills, pretending to enjoy school, pretending to not give a flying fuck about last year or Phil.

It's weird to think about him though. It's weird to think I could ever have forgotten him. I think about him, and dream about him, all the time, as if I get to relive last year, but it doesn't feel like enough. I want to see him, speak to him, hold him. I wonder if anything I felt for him would come back if I saw him again. It's odd how that could work. Did I still love him when I couldn't remember him? I think so, maybe I just didn't realize it. You can't feel what you don't know - if that makes any sense at all. 

"You seem distracted," PJ says to me in PE. We're sat out on the bench, because who the fuck would want us on their team? It's slightly degrading, but only because even Clarky got to play today. He can kick a ball though, so that puts him a step above me and Peej, as for Connor, he's picked first nearly every week. Unlike the rest of us, he's acquired some athletic ability - not that I'm complaining, I'm having fun watching him run around in shorts.

"Do I?" I ask, pretending as if I have no clue what he's on about.

"Yeah," PJ says, "Just quiet today, is all." 

"Oh," I mumble, twiddling my thumbs and staring down at the floor. "Dunno, just tired to be honest." That's not a lie, I'm shattered, but it's not the truth PJ wants either.

"Oh," PJ shrugs, "Well, same really. I did an all-nighter on Saturday, it was mental." I chuckle at his excitement. All-nighters stop being fun after like, the third, I'm assuming this is his first.

"Why'd you do that?" I ask. I don't care all that much, but we might as well make some conversation if we've got to sit watching the lads run round for an hour. 

"I was talking to someone," He replies, smirking. I raise my eyebrows at him, waiting for further explanation. "Not Clarky, either." 

"Mack?" I quiz. His smirk widens and I fill with relief. Okay, I'm glad it was her if anyone. Maybe he likes her, I hope so. It's better than what Connor suggested - I still can't shake that off. "Why were you talking to Mack all night?" 

"She went to a party," PJ explains, "One of her other friends - we don't get invited to those. But anyway, she got a bit drunk and rang me at like one in the morning. We talked for ages, she was chatting some right bollocks, I tell you, but she got proper serious at one point and uh, she told me something really interesting actually..." He's still smirking. Oh fuck, what's this one going to be about?

"What?" I ask, encouraging him to go on. I'm going to pretend it interests me and hope that it actually does, but I don't know what Mack knows that could be of any interest to me unless-

Fuck.

Connor says she knows about him - she knows that he's into boys, but even drunk, Mackenzie cannot be stupid enough to spew that around, can she? Hopefully not, for Connors sake.

"She told me that Connor likes someone," PJ reveals. Now that could be worse, depending on who this someone is. 

"Oh yeah?" I ask, "Who? It can't be her - is it?" If she told PJ that Connor likes her, even knowing he's gay, then she has real issues. 

"It's not," PJ says, "I want to tell you but...oh fuck. It's not true, it can't be, but it's funny." 

"Who is it?" I quiz, finding myself curious to know now.

"You'll piss yourself," PJ chuckles, "It's not true, probably. Promise me you won't say anything though? It would be bad if anyone else found out, they wouldn't get it." 

"I won't say anything, swear it," I say, holding my hands up. He nods, then smirks again.

"You, Dan," PJ says, "Mack thinks Connor likes you." He bursts out laughing, and I join in, playing along with the stupid little 'joke'. 

Little does PJ know, Mackenzie is absolutely right, and Connor proved that the other night. Who am I to judge? The feeling is mutual, but PJ can't know that either...

-

"Is that some sort of sick joke?" Connor snarls, kicking the brick wall beside him. I shrug, unsure of what I'm supposed to say. I think it was a rhetorical question.

"I don't know why she told PJ that," I say, "What was she thinking?" That one is rhetorical, Connor doesn't have a fucking clue what Mack is thinking, nor do any of us.

"PJ better be the only one she told," Connor grunts, kicking the wall again as if he thinks it will have some impact. "Or I swear-"

"She won't have," I cut in, unsure myself, but I know he needs to hear it. "I mean, she isn't completely stupid and she did tell him not to say anything."

"Thank gosh he did," Connor sighs, leaning back against the wall. I lean facing him, smiling sympathetically. "I can't believe she'd even think that in the first place."

"She knows you better than you think," I say. He shakes his head. "It is true."

"But she's probably just pulled it out of her arse," Connor says, "It was just a lucky guess." He reaches out and I look around before taking his hand. We're walking home half an hour later, so it's not like anyone else will still be around.

"You should talk to her about it though," I mumble, "Just tell her it's not true. What if she really thinks you like me? That's bad Connor." And not just for him, I don't want anyone thinking things of me either. It's not fair on either of us if she goes around spreading things like that.

"Did PJ seem shocked?" Connor asks. I think back. He didn't seem astounded, he just thought it was hilarious.

"He just thought it was funny," I respond, "So I wouldn't take it to heart. He knows Mackenzie, he'll probably know she's chatting nonsense."

"It isn't nonsense though, is it?" He mumbles. I shake my head and he squeezes my hand as if reminding me. It's not like we're serious though, we're not even a proper couple. I don't know what we are at all to be honest, but I know I like spending time with him, as confusing and strange as it all is.

"So long as nobody else thinks that," I sigh. He nods and I know that's the one thing we're both certain of. Last time, coming out was acceptable for me, but this time it isn't and maybe that's for the better here.

-

By the time we get to Connor's, our hands are unconnected again and it's also pissing it down with rain. I run in first, kicking off my shoes and throwing down my soaked jacket. Connor is quick to follow, locking the door behind him.

"Go on up then," He urges, running a hand through his hair. I laugh at how it looks under my breath, the long clumps stood at odd angles, some sticking down to his forehead. He flips me off and I go on up, falling back on his bed, then feeling guilty for getting it wet.

I check my phone whilst I wait for him to come up, seeing if anyone else has messaged me. I do it by habit now, every day with the hope of seeing a message waiting from Phil, but to this day, I've had no luck. It leaves me wondering what the fuck happened to him. It's almost like I miss him, but how do you miss someone you barely remember knowing? 

Only I do remember, more than ever now. I want to remember it all, or at least everything that mattered. Hopefully, that's what's happening. Although I've had a lot of flashbacks to pointless, dull occasions, a lot of them are funny and eventful. It's nice to think that my year was like that, and that I am remembering and even reliving those moments. In it's own way, that's pretty special.

"Who are you texting?" Connor asks when he comes back up with drinks. I look up at him then slide my phone back into my pocket.

"Nobody," I lie. It was Chris, but we weren't talking about anything special. More than anyone, me and Chris have normal conversations that are non-related to the crash or my memory loss. He talks to me about other things like video games and music and TV, which in all honesty is a refreshing change. Cat can't talk to me like that anymore and I wonder if that will ever change, we used to be able to talk about anything, but now it's like we have one-track conversations.

"Old friend?" He asks. I nod, appreciating that he understands enough and isn't grilling me for more detail.

"I've found some more," I tell him, "They're nice, from what I can tell." I don't want to go too much into it, but I can't deny that it's nice to talk to someone about it. He nods, smiling weakly at me. I can't tell if he wants me to keep talking or not.

"I'm sure they were," He says. I smile and then take a sip of the drink. It's only lemonade, but it's nice enough. "So, pick a game-"

"Battlefield," I say, eagerly, "I'm getting good at it now." We've been practicing a lot more now. Our hanging out is more of a daily thing than a weekly thing, which is good. Mum thinks it's great that I'm happy with my new friends, not that she knows much about the nature of the friendship. She's met Connor a few times though, and always says how nice he is, as if I don't know.

"Not good enough to win me though," He scoffs. I raise my eyebrows.

"I'm full of surprises," I shrug, "You never know, I might destroy you this time. I'm getting good with the snipers."

"You can dream," Connor mutters, inserting the disk. "But you are decent with a sniper, I'll give you that." He sits back on the bed with me and hands me the other controller. He's always Player 1 though, no exceptions.

"I can dream," I agree, smirking, "I can also camp, so get ready." I've witnessed him rage many times when he falls from campers, it's funny really, but he gets genuinely heated about it. So yeah, it's fucking hilarious on the rare occasions I take him down whilst camping.

"Camping is for knobs," Connor sneers. I nudge him, laughing.

"So why are you complaining?" I ask, "You like knobs-" Oh yeah, that's another thing Connor hates: being reminded he's bent as round-about. He shoves me over, discarding his controller whilst he tackles me. I'm laughing too hard to fight back, but I do let my own controller fall to the ground. His hands are in mine, linking fingers with me. I'm pushing up and he's pushing down, but he has the upper hand because his legs are pinning mine down.

"Get off," I grunt through laughter.

"Make me," He replies, smirking down at me. His left hand falls out of mine and lands on my chest, pushing me into the bed. I'm still laughing, even when he lets go. It wasn't even that funny, I just find him funny when he's pissed off - the way his forehead creases and his eyebrows furrow into a dumb frown and he sulks like a little kid. It's kind of funny, but also kind of cute, as awfully embarrassing as that is to admit.

"Gladly," I say. I lean up, placing both my hands on his waist. He leans down at the same time almost mechanically, and just like that we're kissing again.

It's not all slobbery and gross, at least not at first. We always start of gentle and giggly. I can feel him laughing as I push him further back, switching so I'm on top of him. His hands trace down my side and then back up, resting on my jawline as he tilts my head. We roll so we're on our side, and that's when things change.

His leg slides through mine and he pushes into me, and into the kiss, harder so that our bodies are completely against each other and our teeth clink together, making him chuckle again under his breath. I'm not opposed to any of this, but I always feel guilty - every time, because all I can ever think about is Phil, and that seems so wrong to me. That even now, like this with someone I'm quickly growing to really care about, a boy I barely remember is the only person on my mind. I wonder if he was a better kisser, or if he'd hold me like this? Did he take control more? Did he do the same little laugh between breaths, or smile into it like Connor does? I want to remember how his lips felt against mine.

"Dan," Connor moans, snapping me out of the trance. We're still kissing, but he keeps briefly breaking away. He plants a kiss on my cheek, then another on my lips.

"Mm?" I ask, running my hand down his back. He chuckles lightly under his breath and kisses me again quickly.

"I think there's something in your pocket-"

"Oh fuck," I feel my face flush, but Connor just laughs. How did I not realize? I was just that caught up thinking about...

Oh, fuck.

"Don't worry," Connor mumbles into my ear, "I'm there too." He kisses me again, just as hard as last time and rubs his leg against me. I feel it and let out a loud laugh. We've never done anything like that before, but we both want to, at least I think so. We just can't, not yet. It isn't that I'm not ready, or that he's not ready, it's just a big deal and I'm not down to just rush into something like that, especially not before I've got my shit together with Phil - Connor doesn't know so much about the last part though.

We're still making out, just as heated as before - legs tangled up, hands here, there and everywhere - when Connor's phone rings. I know it's his straight away because I feel the vibration against my leg, causing me burst out laughing.

"Thought that was something else vibrating at first," I snort. He flips me off, sitting up and pulling the phone out - checking it before answering. I stay laid down, staring up at him, smirking.

He wipes his lips before he speaks, "Oh, hello - no...I wasn't busy..." He winks at me, "No...I don't know...Dan is with me now actually - we were just on Battlefield...I'm destroying him, as per...I see..." He rolls his eyes at me and I lean up on my elbows, curious as to who it is and what this is concerning, it must be good for Connor to even consider staying on the phone for long. He's not a phone call kind of guy, especially not when he's doing 'other' things. "That actually sounds alright...I'm up for it, not sure about Dan but probably - is it definitely Friday? Okay, and you're sure he's okay for us to come?...Yeah...I just don't want to turn up and he have no idea why I'm there, you know? Who else is going?...Okay...sick...cool...yeah...alright, nice, I'll text you later. Bye."

"Care to explain?" I huff, sitting up properly.

"That was Mack," He begins, "We're invited to Sam's party on Friday, you know Sam don't you?" I think there are a few Sam's in our year, but only one of them has ever actually spoken to me. He's in my science class and he once defended Clarky when they were calling him a ginger prick, but to be fair that day Clarky was being a prick and he is always ginger, so it wasn't an untrue statement, just an uncalled for roast. I think he's the Sam that Connor means, I quite like him.

"Yeah," I say, "The one in our science?"

"Yeah," Connor replies, "Mack says he told her to tell us that we should come. It's only going to be a few of us, but it'll be alright." As lame as it is to admit, I'm actually quite excited that someone likes me enough to even want to invite me to a party. I didn't think anyone really noticed me other than PJ and his crew, but to think other people actually don't mind spending time with me is nice. I don't speak to people unless I'm sat with them in a lesson, or unless I'm forced to - PJ, Connor, Clarky and Mack being exceptions to that.

"Who else is going?" I ask, "Is it people I like, or at least nice people?" I don't know many people well enough to make educated judgments on them, but I trust Connor does - he has grown up with these people, after all.

"Yeah," Connor says, "They're all...decent. There's Perry, you know Perry, yeah? Freddy, Josh, Nick, Dana, Tom-"

"Are PJ and Clarky going?" I ask. Connor looks down awkwardly. I'll take that as a no.

That makes this whole thing seem worse though. I mean, why would they invite me? They've not known me three months, yet they've known PJ and Clarky at least four years and they're not invited. I'd feel guilty going without them. I know if it was the other way around, I'd feel shitty too.

"She didn't really say," Connor mumbles, "They're not really the house party type, you know?" I don't feel like that's fair justification. I don't think they've ever even been to a house party.

"Can't you ask if they can go?" I suggest, "I think they'd like to be invited." Connor frowns, as if he's opposed to the idea, but he texts Mack about it anyway. I just don't want them to be left out, is all.

"Will you still come though?" He asks, "Like if I can't get them invited, because he might not even be allowed any more people so-"

"How about they go instead of us?" I say, "If that's the case. I've been to parties before, you have. Let them go-"

"Dan," He cuts me off, his voice stern, "That's a nice idea and all, but it's not...I know it's shitty, but the fact is people don't like Will, and they don't care about PJ. PJ and Clarky are Connor's shitty little sidekicks and Dan Howell is the mysterious new boy who's older than us all. They like me, fuck knows why, but I can't make them like Will or PJ. So they've invited us, and that's that. If they don't want Clarky and PJ there then I can't do anything about that, and if we don't go, they definitely won't be wanted there." I know it's serious, mostly because he's using Clarky's first name, which seems alien, but also because of his tone.

It's the harsh truth, but at least Connor has the balls to say it. He's aware of it, and I am too now. The saddest thing, I don't know if PJ and Clarky do know about it? I know it's not something I can debate. Sometimes that's the way things work. Some people are somebodies, other are nobodies. You can't pick which you are.

"Right," I sigh, feeling even worse now. "Is it a bit late to change all that now then?" He nods at me. It's hard to make a new name for yourself after everyone see's you in a certain way. I can't imagine anyone rushing to see PJ or Clarky in a new light.

"Forget it," Connor shrugs, "They don't even have to know about the party." He kisses the side of my head, as if that's going to make me feel better, but it doesn't.

"Yeah," I sigh. I would've probably let it go, forgotten. It doesn't really matter, does it? Because the fact is that they're used to being 'those kids' by now. Surely, they must be aware of how people view them? But maybe not.

Before I moved, I know I was a loser. I had a couple of friends, decent ones, but nobody else gave two fucks about me. I was PJ. I was Clarky. I was a nobody. I've been there and I don't wish it upon anyone else, so no, I can't let it go and I won't stop feeling guilty.


	11. Fresh Faces

_"Marcus!" I barge in, furious and yelling at the top of my voice. I'm done. I'm fucking done, and I'm telling him whether Cat likes it or not._

_"Dan?" He sounds almost nervous, staggering out of the bedroom and closing the door tight behind him. "Wh-what's up?"_

_"Have you seen Cat?" I ask, "She said she was coming round-"_

_"She never told me that," Marcus said, frowning, "What's going on? Hey-" He clearly notes my state, "Sit down, tell me, what happened? Why aren't you in school?"_

_"Cat said she was coming round," I repeat, "She has something to tell you. I told her to tell you! I made her promise - as soon as I found out! She said she would, that she was coming here now - but she lied!" I should've fucking known! Of course she wasn't going to tell him. Cat's fucking terrified, even though she's done something horrible, she won't face up to it. I can't stand by and watch anymore. This needs to end._

_"What does she need to tell me?" Marcus quizzes, sounding really scared now. So he should. He has no idea, poor guy. Cat's awful for doing this to him when he's so sweet - there's no excuse. I should feel awful for ratting out my friend, and I do, but I'd feel even worse if I let Marcus live on ignorant to her ways. Even Phil said I was right to do this and I trust his opinion above them all. Speaking of whom, he's waiting outside in his car for me. I'm telling him, and then I'm going. We're going._

_"Ask her who Joe is," I spit, "Call her. Right now." Marcus's face falls, and he gets his phone out slowly, staring at me with growing caution as he dials her number. I don't budge, or back down. He needs to do this. If I were in his place, I'd want to know too._

_"What are you doing here?" The voice comes from behind me, and it shocks both me and Marcus, as we turn and see Cat stood there - Phil behind her red-faced and confused._

_"I'm doing the right thing," I explain, knowing she'll be mad regardless of my response._

_"Who's Joe?" Marcus asks, his voice small and afraid. Cat looks at me with a glare of pure betrayal. I feel bad, but I know I'm still right. She's the idiot here, for once in her life. I'm refusing to be bullied into doing something I know is wrong because of her - for once in my life._

_"He's my friend," Cat lies, "He's just a fucking friend! Dan thinks there's something going on-"_

_"There is!" I cut in, refusing to listen to her bullshit. "She kissed him! I saw it with my own eyes-"_

_"What?" Marcus gasps as his face falls. Cat kicks the table._

_"No!" She yells, "He's lying! He's lying again!" Part of me wants to scream in her face. Part of me wants to scream at myself. I shouldn't ever have gotten involved. I shouldn't have let her get away with it for so long. I just wanted to believe she would do the right thing. The old Cat would have. The Cat I loved would never have done something like this - and that same Cat adored Marcus to his very bones. This Cat, obviously not so much. This Cat, is sick._

_"No," Phil cuts in, "He isn't. Dan is right, Marcus, Cat's been cheating on you. After all this bullshit, she really did. I'm sorry-"_

I wake up, my head pounding, the usual sickness in my stomach. I calm down after a couple of minutes, downing a glass of water from my bedside table and rubbing my head, thinking back to the dream.

That was one of the worst. My stomach is twisted into knots thinking about it. Was that near the end? Did I really leave things like that? Feeling such hatred towards probably the best friend I've ever had? Cat...

She wouldn't do that. Surely I had it wrong? But no. I didn't. I know I didn't. I can feel it now, the same feeling of sureness I had then, almost as if I'd seen it with my own eyes. I remember how I felt in that moment, at that time, with those people. I wasn't lying. I was trying to do the right thing. 

I wonder who Joe was... 

I wonder if it's a bit of an awkward thing to ask about. Maybe I shouldn't. Cat wouldn't want to talk about that with me. Oh gosh, I didn't think I had it in me to ever be so mad at her. Without full context, I can't ask anyone. Except maybe Phil - but he's out of the question, sadly.

I note it down in my dream journal anyway, in hopes that one day I'll be able to talk to Phil about it. He seems like such a nice person. I really liked him then, I can tell, so I guess I'd like him now. It's odd to think maybe he still likes me. Maybe he misses me too? I think I miss him, in some distorted, unusual way. I miss them all. I miss that me, and that life. 

Hell, bitchy Cat or not, it had to be better than this.

-

Connor couldn't get Clarky invited to the party, so we haven't even told him about it. I feel bad about that, but PJ on the other hand has been invited with open arms. Apparently Sam was really down for it, and PJ has been excited about it since Connor told him.

I'm almost happy for him, but I still feel guilty about ditching Clarky. I'd be gutted if I was him, but we just have to hope he never finds out. What he doesn't know can't hurt him, after all, at least that's what Connor keeps telling me.

I'm getting ready at PJ's house with him and Connor. His mum is going to give us a lift to the house, which actually isn't far, and then we're allowed to stay the night because his parents are in Blackpool all weekend or something. I've told my mum that I'm leaving the party at eleven and we're going back to PJ's, I'll tell her anything if I think it'll help her sleep better at night.

"You better hide that from my mum," PJ says, glaring at the bottle of vodka in my hand. It's only a shitty 7-11 brand, but it's easy to get drunk off and the cashier didn't even bother asking me for I.D. I suppose being older than my friends has advantages - not that the one year makes a difference. I think I just look older anyway. 

"I've got a back-pack," Connor says, "Shall I put it in there?" I nod and toss the bottle to him. He wraps it in his hoodie and shoves it in. 

"Have you got clothes to change into for tomorrow?" PJ asks, "You know, if we're sleeping." I almost want to laugh at his inexperience, but I hold back, knowing that once upon a time I was him.

"Nah," I say, "I wouldn't bother. You'll get so off your head tonight you won't even care what you're wearing tomorrow." 

"Just fetch a jacket and a deodorant," Connor advises, "You'll probably want to disguise the smell of sick, sweat and booze for when you come home tomorrow." Connor on the other hand, is very experienced. Possibly more so than me, but in my defense I don't remember half of my experiences. There were probably many more knowing that group of friends. The more I dream, the more I learn that they were completely free spirited people and I envy that so much.

"Fuck," PJ sighs, "Let me find a jacket then." He barges out of the room, leaving me and Connor to continue messing with our hair. 

Only, that isn't what we do.

Instead, Connor rushes over to me, pushes me into the bed and kisses me. I'm not opposed to that by any means, but I'd rather he didn't do it when PJ could walk in any second.

"Con..." I mumble, smirking as I pull away and sit up. He's laughing under his breath and he runs his hand through his hair, removing it from my hip.

"Sorry," He chuckles, but I don't think he is at all. I'm not. "I don't think we'll get to tonight." 

"I think we'll survive," I reply, wiping my lips as if there'd be visible evidence of the kiss. "Anyway, I'm still coming to yours Sunday aren't I?" 

"Yeah," Connor says, "I hadn't forgotten, trust me." He stands up and continues playing with his hair, though he always has it exactly the fucking same. 

"How could you forget?" I retort, smirking, "I'm the highlight of your week." 

"That's debatable," PJ cuts in, stumbling back into his bedroom with an over sized jumper in his hand.

"Rude," I mumble, half concerned at just how much he heard of that. Not that he'll be suspicious, knowing PJ. 

"Are you ready then?" PJ asks, grinning at us. He's so excited and I feel almost bad that he's never had this experience properly before. It's like letting a puppy run around the garden for the first time - which is incredibly fun to watch actually. 

"Are you ready?" Connor retorts, smirking. 

"I think so," PJ says, holding up his jumper. Connor and I laugh, and then PJ looks from me, back to Connor with a puzzled expression. "Wait, for what?" 

"To get pissed out of your brain, my friend."

-

As expected, PJ is a complete light weight. I'm not one to judge, but it is funny watching him conduct himself so wildly. He's acting so happy and careless, but he's also really stupid. Connor thinks maybe he's exaggerating it a little bit, but knowing PJ I think it's genuine. He wouldn't act so dumb naturally - when he's sober, he likes to act really smart, and he wouldn't dumb himself down for anyone.

I don't think there's anyone here he wants to impress anyway.

Except maybe Mack - which is what I'm kind of hoping. It's better than what Connor keeps hinting at. I can't bare the thought of that. 

"You alright, Peej?" I ask him, leaning back against the kitchen wall. PJ is laughing about something Sammy just said (it really wasn't all that funny) and he's leaning over, clutching his sides as if he's in pain. He nods, gasping for air between his huge bouts of laughter. 

"Fucking hell Peej," Tom scoffs, shaking his head, "Was it really that funny or are you just twatted?" PJ shakes his head, but I don't know who the fuck he thinks hes's fooling. 

We're all gathered in the kitchen - me, PJ, Tom, Sammy, Dana, Hilda, Mackenzie and Nick. Freddy is upstairs with someone (I don't even want to know) and there are a few other people here but none of whom I know well enough to talk to. I can't even name some of them. Connor said they were all 'decent' though, and I haven't been forced to associate with anyone outside of this current circle. I kind of like them all, they're funny and wacky and from what I can tell they really don't give a fuck about what anyone else thinks.

That, and they seem to really like me? Probably because I brought more alcohol, but I'd like to think it has something to do with me as an actual person too, as unlikely as that may be.

"I'm not twatted," PJ insists, though it kind of reminds me of when thirteen year olds insist they're grown up - untrue but nobody has the heart to tell them. "I'm fine!" He swings his hand back as he says it and accidentally hits the cupboard, which personally, I find pretty funny, but nobody else is laughing so I try to hold it in. I'm scared they'll think that I'm the childish one. Do they expect me to be more responsible and mature? I'm neither of those things! I have no idea what they think of me, but they're being nice to me so I should probably stop overthinking everything that I do and say. 

"So many words to describe you right now," Sammy says, "I don't think fine is one of them." A few of us laugh at that, PJ included.

"Fucking annoying fits better," Nick says, but I think he's joking. I hope so, anyway. Everyone is laughing, so I go along with it, and even PJ doesn't seem bothered by it. Maybe it's just the way Nick is. He was probably joking, as harsh as it was. "Does anyone know if there's some more cans around here?" 

"They're all in the garage," Connor tells him. 

"I'll get them," I offer. Nobody protests, and I wonder off into the garage alone. It's colder, and I like the sudden quietness of it. It's not silent, not by a long shot - the thump of the music is still well within ear shot, but it's calmer and colder and somehow, I feel really fucking relaxed in here.

I grab about five cans from the crate in the corner, cradling them in my arms so that I don't drop them, then make my way back to the door, which is harder than it sounds when you're balancing five moderately sized cans of beer in your arms. I don't want to drop one because that's just a huge inconvenience for everyone - one beer down and wet socks for me if it fizzes up. 

I don't make it to the door though, and not because I drop a can, but because instead, someone else comes in. The initial swinging of the door makes me jump, but luckily all five cans stay in place, just saved by my chin. I look up, awkwardly smiling at PJ, who's now stood in the doorway.

"Dan do you need help?" He asks, giggling. I nod and he walks over, surprisingly naturally considering his unusually high intake of alcohol today. I don't question it though, maybe he's just not as drunk as everyone thinks. I don't really care all that much - I've faked it too before. 

"Thanks," I say, as he takes a couple of the cans from me. "Are you having a good time?" 

"Not really," He says, his tone completely flat. I look up at him confused. He seemed to be enjoying himself? "I just don't think parties are my thing though Dan, it's so loud, everyone has got a little bit drunk, everyone is being loud as fuck and they're all kissing and it's a bit weird." 

"Who's getting off now?" I question. I can't say I noticed anyone making out before, but I wasn't paying much attention to be fair, so maybe I was just blind to it. 

"Connor and Hilda," He sneers. At first, I think I've misheard. Connor? Hilda? That makes no sense. But I definitely didn't hear him wrong. 

"She just leaned in," He continues, "I thought they were whispering in each others ear or something, but I looked back and they were just stood with their tongues down each others throats." He laughs at that last bit, and I force myself to make a laughing sound, but I don't feel like laughing. I feel more like crying to be honest. "It's weird, because she's supposed to like Nick. She fucking adores him from what I've heard. Connor obviously doesn't like you though, which is a relief but we always knew. Still weird though. They're just not people you'd put together."

"How weird," I agree, my throat drying up as I speak. I can't believe this. It just makes no sense to me why he'd do something like that? Why the fuck kiss a girl when you know you're not into girls? Why the fuck kiss someone else at all when you're supposed to be...

Well, whatever him and I are.

Were.

I go back into the kitchen with PJ, but it's quieter this time because Connor is clearly off with Hilda and Jack and Tom have gone outside for a cigarette. Everyone keeps laughing, and I join in but I'm not really listening. It's like I can't think about anything else, my mind's a tunnel and I keep zooming back and forth. Why would Connor be doing that? Is there more to it? Why is he such a cunt? Where is he now? Why does it bother me so much?

That's the big question, after all. It probably shouldn't matter to me this much. It's not like we'd disclosed that we were in a serious, exclusive relationship or anything of the sort. Yet I still feel like he's betrayed me and part of me is fucking fuming about it. How the fuck do I deal with this? I don't think I've ever been in this situation before (not to my memory, anyway) and I'm not sure how to go about it. Maybe there is no direct solution. Connor is being a twat, and maybe that's all there is to it. 

I can't change that. I can't make myself feel better. I can't make him feel guilty about it. I can't even it out.

Or maybe I can.

And I know just how to do that. I know what would really grind his gears.

For the first time since re-entering the room, I look up. I catch PJ's eye and grin. He smiles back, his eyes lighting up slightly in a way that I've always been ignorant to before now. This time I'm glad to see it. 

I'm not sure if I'd have let this happen to me before.I certainly know I've never felt like this, I doubt Phil would ever have even put me in such an awkward position to begin with that could make me feel like this. Phil seemed far too lovely for that. But regardless, I'm not going to sit back and let Connor treat me like shit. 

Nobody will treat me like shit. Not this time. Not anymore. 

-

I don't talk to Connor all night. Instead, I sit with PJ, Freddy and Mackenzie laughing about everything and anything. 

The majority of people left at about two, but I barely spoke to them to even notice the difference. They were all off in little groups most of the time, which was fine by me. Everyone was nice enough, and that's what counts I suppose.

"Do you genuinely think that Shrek is better than Toy Story?" Freddy spits at me. We're in a heated discussion about animated movies. I don't know if he feels this passionately about Tom Hanks when he's sober, but I respect his love for Toy Story, none the less. 

I don't however, think it is better than Shrek - and I'm willing to argue my case in point. "Yeah," I say, "They're very different films, but even so Shrek is so much more enjoyable to watch-"

"How dare you?" Freddy cuts in, glaring at me in disgust, "Toy Story is an emotional roller coaster from start to finish. It's plot is so much more developed and-"

"It's less realistic though," I counter, putting aside the fact that Shrek is also completely and utterly unrealistic too. "Talking toys is just...I mean-"

"Ogres aren't real either," PJ points out, "And Shrek has talking animals so-"

"Shut the fuck up," I groan, "That's beyond the point, listen, okay, Shrek is just a more fun, positive film. It incorporates a lot of good ideas from different fairy tales-"

"Exactly," Freddy snaps, "It's unrealistic and unoriginal! Toy Story could be real, for all we know, like have you ever seen your toys talk? No - because they don't talk in front of you! The concept that they could be alive is so fascinating-"

"What's fascinating?" It's Connor that cuts in. The four of us look up at him. Mack is the only one of us who smiles upon his entrance to the dining room, where we're all sat around the table having the deep debate. 

"Nothing," I mumble, glaring at him. I wonder if he knows that I'm aware of what he's done. Would he care or does he think that it doesn't matter? 

"We were talking about Shrek," Mack explains, giggling. She's not actually that drunk, if at all, but she is laughing like crazy about this debate. I don't think it's all that crazy because truth be told, I've argued about more trivial things, but PJ and Mack were fucking losing it at Freddy and I.

"And Toy Story," PJ adds. Freddy smirks at him, but doesn't even seem to acknowledge Connor.

"Can I join?" Connor asks, smiling. I don't reply, instead letting someone else. I don't want to talk to him, and I want to make that clear. Although I don't want to directly admit I'm mad, I want him to notice.

"If you like," Mack shrugs, "See, Freddy was just saying that Toy Story has a better concept, but Dan says that it's less realistic-"

"Shrek isn't realistic," Connor scoffs. I roll my eyes at Freddy, who chuckles. "But Toy Story isn't that smart. I think Shrek is funnier-"

"It's not about comedy," I cut in, "But you are right." Connor walks into the room properly and sits down on the empty chair next to me. I tense. He's making it hard to ignore him, so I just have to make my feelings more obvious. I'm done with him if he wants to fuck around with other people, which evidently is the case.

"I know I am," Connor replies, "Toy Story has the better characters though, like I'd take Woody over Shrek any day." 

"But who'd win in a fight?" PJ questions. I laugh, I can't help but not. 

"Shrek," I say, triumphantly, "Shrek would crush Woody, and Buzz." I'm not wrong, and they all know it. Freddy grins at me.

"You got me there," He sighs, his voice flat, "I guess Shrek is the supreme. Well done." He stands up and tucks his chair in as if he's going to leave. I frown, wondering why it bothers him so much Shrek would win in a fight? Why is he giving up so easily in such an intense debate? 

I see PJ giving him the same confuses glance and then turn to see Connor staring down at the floor.

Oh.

It isn't me, or even the debate, that's making him want to leave: it's Connor. The awkward energy did increase by a solid 100% when he walked in, but I thought that was just me. Maybe not. After all, I know I'm not the only person in the world who has a problem with Connor...

"You going to get more drinks?" Mack asks him. He nods quickly.

"Yeah," Freddy mumbles, "More drinks, anyone want some?" I stand up too, smiling at him.

"I'll come with you," I say, "I think I left an open bottle in the kitchen anyway." That's a lie, but I need an excuse. PJ jumps on the bandwagon and stands too, leaving Connor and Mack the only ones sat down. Connor looks at us, frowning.

"Me too," PJ says, smiling at me. I grin back, then turn to Mackenzie and flash her a smile. I don't even look back at Connor before walking into the kitchen with Freddy and PJ. Freddy is mumbling under his breath, and leans back against the cabinet. "Well that was awkward." PJ says. 

"No shit Sherlock," Freddy scoffs. I laugh and lean back against the counter opposite Freddy. "Connor is an actual knob." I try to keep a straight face, but the insult takes me by surprise. I wonder what happened. Connor has never even really spoke about Freddy before, and he loves moaning about people he dislikes. Maybe the dislike isn't mutual, but there has to be something. I'm curious, really fucking curious. 

"What did he do?" I ask, trying to make it sound casual. PJ stands next to me, and for the first time I let myself notice just how closely. Nobody else seems to care though, and I keep my eyes firmly locked on Freddy, who's face looks cold and angry.

"He's just a twat," Freddy sighs, not really offering a proper explanation. "I mean, I know you're all proper good mates, but he's just..." He doesn't finish his sentence. He doesn't really need to. I know that he won't tell me anything else without some more pushing, and possibly more privacy - but I need to know. 

Because if this is what I think it is, it's a pretty big deal.

"I always thought Clarky was the one everyone hated," I say, acting clueless. PJ laughs at that, but Freddy nods. 

"I don't hate Will," He says, "He's a funny guy actually. Everyone thinks Connor is funnier because he just rips Will for everything the guy says. Connor is fucking mean though, doesn't cut the guy a break." As much as I hate to admit it, I can kind of see where Freddy is coming from. Connor does seem to fuel the Clarky-hate more than anyone else. I mean, everyone takes the piss out of him, but Connor more so than anyone else. Maybe he's the ringleader in all of that. It wouldn't be surprising. I don't think Connor could surprise me anymore, it feels like there's actually a lot I don't know about him.

"It's a shame you're the only one that sees things that way," PJ comments. "I think Clarky is convinced people hate him." That's sad beyond words. 

"I always thought he was unaware of it," I say, which kind of makes me feel worse. Maybe Clarky isn't dumb or naive, maybe he just ignores it because it's easier than facing up to the fact you're a running joke. I hadn't considered that before.

"I don't think he is," PJ explains, "I reckon he plays up to it because, well, I guess it's better to be laughed with than laughed at-"

"But he is being laughed at," Freddy cuts in, "He just can't do anything to stop it." In the corner of my eye, I see movement. I look to the side to see Connor stood, forcing a smile.

"You were taking the piss with the drinks," He says, "And Mack went off to talk to Hilda." Hearing him say her name makes my blood boil so much more than I'd like to admit. 

"Why didn't you go with her?" PJ asks, before I get the chance. I want Connor to know that I know he kissed her. I want him to know how mad I am, but he doesn't, and that drives me crazy. I can't exactly express it openly either, not with everyone here. I'm not supposed to be jealous...

"Am I not wanted here?" Connor replies, bluntly. He's looking at me with an almost desperate gaze, and I completely blank him. Instead, I take a step closer to PJ, making an extra effort to smile at him as I do so. I know Connor's watching, waiting for someone to finally respond - though the silence speaks for itself.

"No, you're not," Freddy suddenly snaps, bluntly. Connor's face is bright red, and he's staring at Freddy as if it's the first words the guy has ever spoke-

And that's when I realize. Freddy was the one who kissed Connor. 

And that's the first time he's spoken a word to him in over a year.


	12. Caught in the Crossfire

We go on ignoring Connor, and he doesn't even approach us. I think he's got the message to be honest. It's only when we're laid out in the living room when we're forced to converse with him again. 

Everyone still here and awake is sat there, we're all just chatting about random stuff - as you do when you've gone almost twenty one hours with no sleep and consumed huge intakes of alcohol. Charlie is asleep, and PJ keep drifting in and out of sleep - resting his head on my shoulder every time he drops. Nobody even comments on this, and I'm grateful for that, but the bitter part of me hopes Connor has noticed.

"Flying would be a shit super power," Dana snorts, rolling her eyes at Nick. This is the most I've ever heard Dana speak, and boy can that girl speak! Not that I'm complaining, most of the things she says are pure gold. " Anyone who chooses flying over something like invisibility or time manipulation is an absolute wanker, and that isn't me being a cock, that's me stating bare facts."

"Nobody is disputing that," Tom says, "But flying would be cool, like-"

"Flying would be cool," Dana cuts in, "You know, until you fly into a sky scraper, or get shot down by bastarding pigeon hunters." I'm laughing at that, just imaging Tom with wings slamming into a building. Dana has a point, regardless. 

"You'd be shot if anyone discovered you had a super power anyway," Nick points out, "Like can you imagine? The secret service would come in their pants if they thought they could give people the ability to fly or some shit."

"Yeah," Dana snorts, "That's what spies orgasm over - human flight." 

"What do spies orgasm over?" I ask. Personally, I feel it's an important question, but most of them just start laughing, and I join in. 

"Do spies have time to orgasm?" Freddy follows up, with an even more thought provoking question.

"Everyone makes time to whack one out," Dana scoffs. I let out a snort, mostly because of all people, that comment is coming from Dana. Tom is absolutely pissing himself, and even Freddy and Connor, who've been really quiet all night, begin laughing. "Spies are allowed to masturbate too." 

"Nobody said they weren't," Tom says, "But I hope their spy duties come first."

"Was that a coming pun?" Nick inquires. I'm still giggling, mostly at the ridiculousness of the conversation, but it wakes PJ up and he looks around the room, clearly confused by the unfamiliar environment. 

"Did you have a nice nap Peej?" I chuckle. He squints, then rubs his eyes and looks around. We're all smirking at him. 

"Was alright," He mumbles, "What's going on?" I laugh, unsure of how to explain.

"We're discussing spies and their sex lives," Dana summarizes for us. She gets right to the point, I suppose that's good for her. Tom is still absolutely dying in the corner, but the rest of us are past it. I've learnt that Tom is really easily amused, which is also not a bad quality to have. 

"You've really missed out," Sammy says. 

"Is there anything left to drink?" PJ asks. 

"Not alcoholic," Sam replies, "But I think there's water and orange juice and stuff." Thinking about it, I could actually do with a drink myself.

"Do you want me to get something?" I say, standing up, "I need a drink anyway." As soon as I'm fully stood upright, I'm hit with a wave of dizziness, as if the room has begun to shake slightly. I rub my eyes and try to brush it off. I probably just stood up too fast, that can happen.

"Water please," PJ requests. I nod, rubbing at my eyes. I think I might need a water too, maybe that's it. Maybe I'm just thirsty. I don't think I've had a proper drink in a couple of hours, and apparently alcohol doesn't quench your thirst right anyway, or so I've heard.

"You alright Dan?" Freddy asks, "You look right pale." I nod, but I do feel really light headed. 

"Fine," I shrug, walking off into the kitchen, despite it feeling like the carpet is sliding beneath me. I stop in the doorway, holding the frame of the door and rubbing my forehead. It isn't getting any better, I just feel really fucking dizzy.

When I look back up, it's no better either. If anything, it's gotten worse, and my eyes feel all heavy like when you're really fucking tired.

I continue anyway, grabbing two glasses from the draining board and turning on the cold tap. I put my hand under it to make sure it's cold enough, then dab my forehead with that hand wondering if that could help at all, but it has no effect at all to be honest. I sigh and proceed to put the glass under the tap, watching the water fill it up and the condensation from on the sides of it. 

That's when the room really starts to spin. I look around and it feels like a weight is in my mind, so I clamp my eyes shut, dropping the glass and rubbing them. It's almost painful, but the pain feels distant like I can't get to it, before it suddenly just disappears and all I feel is really light headed, like I'm going to flop back at any time. 

I can't even think right, gripping onto the side of the cupboard and gasping. I know I should probably shout for help, or try to get some paracetamol, but I can't bring myself to even move again without feeling as if I'll faint. 

I take one fateful step back towards the sink, before I feel my legs collapse beneath me and my stomach twist as I fall. My mouth opens and I let out a groan, gripping my forehead and then slamming against the cold, hard floor.

_"You dirty fucking liar!" Cat spits at me. I take a step back, fearing she'll actually hit me._

_"Chill out Cat," I plead, "We wanted to tell you! We really did!" I can tell she's pissed, but more than that, she looks actually hurt. I didn't mean for that. I hadn't even thought about it, I was just thinking about me, in reality. Me and Phil. We didn't want to tell anyone yet, it was nothing personal._

_"Looks like it," She scoffs, "How long has this been going on for then?" She looks from me to Phil, who's still trying to button up his shirt again. He's barely said a word and he looks so panicked, but I hate that he's left me to do all the explaining. I don't know what to say. I know I should be honest, but she's only going to get more pissed off._

_"Not long," I tell her. It's not a lie really. We've been seeing each other for about a month, give or take, but we only decided that we were official a couple of weeks ago. It took us a while to actually have that conversation, and I had expected it to take even longer before we had this one, yet here we are._

_It was beyond our control though. I had no idea that she'd come over here like this. Chris knew we were going to his flat, but not to do this, and I have no idea why Cat's suddenly turned up. Chris said we were free to use it until he got home from work, assuming we'd be on video games probably. Then, we were all meeting up and we were going to go out for lunch._

_I doubt lunch will happen now, and if it does, Cat probably won't make an appearance. It would be far too awkward now._

_"Don't bullshit me," She yells, "As if you've kept this from me! I fucking supported you from the start and you lied to my face about it-"_

_"It wasn't like that," I insist, groaning internally. I don't blame her, I get why she's upset and to some degree, she has a right to be, but Cat always blows things way out of proportion. She's getting more worked up than she needs to, and it's just not worth it. She doesn't even understand why we kept it from her, and right now she doesn't look like she wants to sit around and listen to an in depth explanation. "This wasn't personal Cat! We weren't ready for people to find out, not yet-"_

_"I'm not just anyone though Dan, am I?" She snaps back. I shrug. She's right, but that still doesn't mean I wanted her to know anything like this yet._

_"But that doesn't mean we have an obligation to tell you anything before we want to," I retort, finding the words somehow. Phil stands up and walks towards her, finally speaking up._

_"Calm down Cat," He pleads, "We didn't mean for it to upset you. We didn't think it would really-"_

_"Why should it?" I cut in, although I can kind of see why she'd be hurt. Cat, as much as she denies it, is a very sensitive person. "You can't get angry at me for not being ready to tell you something this big-"_

_"Oh, so it's a big deal?" She scoffs, "I thought it wasn't serious yet? Lying about that too Dan?" She takes another step closer but Phil matches her, putting his hand on her shoulder and forcing a smile._

_"Please calm down," Phil says, "I mean it, both of you. I didn't want you to find out like this Cat, but we weren't going to keep it from you forever, and we really did plan to tell you soon. I'm sorry you saw us like this-"_

_"Me too," She grunts. I hold in a chuckle, despite the ordeal being so humiliating for me, I can't imagine how horrifying it must have been for her to see. I'm grateful that she walked in when she did though, rather than fifteen minutes later when who knows what more would have transpired..._

_"But please can we forget this conversation and try again?" Phil suggests. I'm not opposed to the idea, but Cat is. She shakes her head, but takes a step back._

_"I'm going, fuck this," Cat sighs, "I just need to calm down. Sorry for yelling but this isn't exactly what I expected to see, not from you two. It's not exactly pleasant, you know? Just leave me be for a bit. I'll talk to you later." She begins to walk out, but I have another concern._

_"Cat wait-" I call, although I respect her choice to leave, I need to ask her._

_"Don't worry," She responds through the door, "I won't tell anyone." That was all I needed to hear. Phil too, I assume, as he lets out a huge sigh of relief and sits back down. I sit back next to him and he snakes his arm back around my waist, letting his fingers dance up and down my side. I feel like crying. I won't, but I want to. I think Phil can tell, and I rest my head on his shoulder, kissing his shoulder blade through the shirt. This is tough for him too, after all. Neither of us exactly wanted to be caught fucking around by Cat._

_"It'll be okay Danny," He says, lacing his other hand into mine, "We'll be alright. I promise." Isigh, hoping he's right._

_"Me and you against the world," I whisper, closing my eyes._

_"Me and you," He agrees, and kisses the top of my head._

I wake with a start, shooting upright and gripping my now buzzing head. I look around, confused and dazed. My hand feels empty now, and the ghost of a hand behind my waist leaves tingling feelings inside my stomach.

Phil...

"Dan!" Connor is gripping my face, staring at me. I frown and shake him off, still remembering what he did with Hilda. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," I mutter, sitting up straight and properly looking around the room at the confused faces staring down. They're all equally as confused as each other. "I'm fine."

"You passed out," Nick says, frowning, "You sure you're alright mate? You don't look it." 

"Thanks," I scoff, rubbing my eyes. I don't feel as disorientated as I usually do, but this time I feel sickly and as if there's something missing. Am I forgetting something? Again. 

No, it can't be that. I remember that flashback perfectly - Phil and Cat were there, fighting about her seeing us. But what had she seen? I can't remember, but we were in Chris's bedroom, so I'm going to assume it wasn't something exactly platonic. Especially since the argument was about her finding out, from what I could gather anyway. 

"He's right Dan," PJ says, "You look really pasty." 

"I need a drink," I lie. I don't care about any of that really, because who gives a shit how ill I look? I don't feel anything but a huge fucking hole in my stomach, like when you miss someone, but how can I miss someone I barely remember? I mean sure, I miss Cat, but Cat isn't the person my entire being is aching for right now.

I'm past denying it. 

"Let's get you up," Connor helps pull me up and walks me back into the living room, but it feels wrong - really wrong and not just because I'm angry at him. Everyone follows, awkward and quiet. 

"Here," Mack passes me a cup of water and I drink it, just trying to show them all I'm actually fine. "You were out like ten minutes, we were really fucking scared." 

"I'm fine," I insist, "I do that sometimes - pass out." It's not really a lie, but I'm hardly offering a valid explanation for it, which I assume they'll all want.

"I was ready to phone my mum," Sam says, "That would have been a shit storm. Glad you're okay though." He hasn't said much, thinking about it, but I appreciate his concern. 

"That's dodgy," Connor says, "Why do you pass out? We couldn't wake you, I was worried." He sits next to me, far too close, but I say nothing.

"Do you have a condition?" Dana asks, "Like, I don't mean as in are you retarded, but is there something wrong with you?" I smirk at her phrasing, shaking my head.

"They don't know," I explain. I'm not really lying, because they don't know, and my doctors can barely admit there's something wrong with me. "It just happens sometimes. Stress or tiredness and stuff." 

"Weird," PJ mumbles, then louder, "I mean, not you, just the passing out thing. Maybe it was drinking that did it."

"Maybe I'm just tired," I suggest, smiling at them all. "Thanks though, for helping." Not that they did anything at all. "I think I'm going to actually sleep though, feel a bit drained." 

"Good idea," PJ says, "You really fucking scared us Dan." 

"I'm fine," I repeat, "Just let me go to sleep." I feel Connors hand on my back, probably trying to comfort me. I shrug him off and try to ignore the chatter that continues in the room, diverting the topic from my state. 

"You okay?" Connor asks me quieter. I nod, not wanting to talk to him. He sighs. I almost feel bad, but not as bad as I should feel. He stabbed me in the back, and now? Now I don't even want to think about him. All I want to think about is that last flashback.

Like with them all, I want answers. I need answers. 

I need Phil. 

-

When I wake up the next morning, everyone is up and awake making awkward small talk and complaining about headaches. 

I realise that I didn't have a flashback last night, or any dream at all, which is a refreshing relief. 

"He's up," Connor says. I look around, wondering who before realising that it's me everyone is looking at. I offer them an awkward, confused smile, unsure of what to do.

"Thought you were in a comatose state for a while there," Dana says, smirking, "You're a fucking heavy sleeper." 

"Good morning to you too Dana," I grumble, trying to hold back my giggle. 

"We were just talking about the worst dreams we've ever had," Hilda cuts in, "I said mine was one where I was being stretched-" I know it's wrong of me to dislike her for something Connor obviously did, but I'm so bitter about it that I can't actually help it.

"Mine's way worse," Nick cuts in, and I'm actually glad for it, "I once had a dream that my dog was watching me wank." I laugh at that, even in my drowsy state. He says it as if it's the worst thing in the world, but I think I'd rather a dog catch me at that than get stretched. 

"That is not worse," Mack chuckles, taking the words right out of my mouth, "I can top both of those. I once had a nightmare about my mum chasing me with a frying pan. I think she wanted to eat me." Once again, I laugh along. 

"I've had dreams about eating you too," Sam says, laughing. I snort, assuming that he means a different type of 'eating', but my laughter is drowned out by the sound of Mack's scream in disgust.

"That's all it will ever be," Mack scoffs, "A fucking dream!" She's laughing along though. To be fair, I didn't even realise the lads saw her in that way. She doesn't seem to care about their attention though, and I respect that.

"Calm down Mackie," Sam retorts, wiggling his eyebrows at us all, "If it makes you feel any better I do consider it to be more of a nightmare." 

"That does make me feel better," Mack giggles, "But if you ever have a wet dream about me, please castrate yourself immediately after." 

"Might be a little late," Nick cuts in, giggling. Mack glares at him. 

"Have you ever actually had a wet dream about any girl here?" Hilda asks, tilting her head in curiosity. She's pretty. I can't even deny that - she's just conventionally beautiful: long dark hair, practically black eyes and thick lips. She's tall and slim, model material style and she appears almost to have a Latina complexion, though I'm not sure about where her family come from. Regardless, if I wasn't gay, Hilda is definitely someone I'd want to be with. I think most people would agree with me there.

"I have," Freddy says, shamelessly. I hold back a frown. That must be a lie, unless he's not gay, which could also make sense. Just because I'm almost 100% sure he and Connor got off doesn't mean I can assume that he's gay - he could be bi or something. Or maybe I'm wrong, and he's completely hetero and hates Connor for other reasons - that isn't completely absurd either. I am wrong a lot.

"Who was it?" Mackenzie quizzes, seeming more concerned than anything else. 

"You, obviously," Freddy scoffs, "We did sleep together Mack, that tends to get boys imaginations going." Oh shit. I forgot about that - Mack told me that they'd lied about it so that people didn't think they were weird. That makes even more sense, as telling people you'd had sex with someone like Mackenzie is a perfect cover up. Nobody would suspect that Freddy could be gay if he'd done it with Mack. Maybe that's the real reason they lied.

I look over at Connor, but he hasn't even reacted to the comment, simply staring down at his phone in another world. I look away almost immediately, not wanting him to see me staring.

"Fair enough," Mack shrugs, smirking. Sammy rolls his eyes.

"How come he doesn't have to self-mutilate?" He asks. 

"Freddy's allowed," Mack says, winking at him. "I banged him, fair's fair." I feel kind of special actually, being the only person aside from Freddy and Mack to know it's all a lie. 

"Can't argue with that," Nick giggles, "Anyway, Sammy, are you gonna crack us some breakfast on or are going to have to starve to death?" 

"The latter," Sammy mutters, standing up, "Kidding, but you lazy pricks can make your own. It's fucking cereal or toast. You're thick Nick, but you can work a toaster." 

"Might put a fork in it," Nick calls, as Sammy wanders into the kitchen. 

"Wouldn't that be a shame," Sammy shouts back, laughing. We all laugh along, Nick included, before he gets up to go and make some breakfast. 

I stand too, stretching before going off into the kitchen where Nick and Sammy and making small talk about the best cereals - not a conversation I really care to join, but one I get roped into anyway. 

I'm almost thankful when Nicks toast pops up and he goes back into the living room. "Did you have a good time last night then?" Sammy asks me, pouring way too much milk into his cereal. I think about that. Last night wasn't awful, it was quite fun getting to know these people more, but I'm still feeling down about Connor, so that kind of ruined it all for me - plus passing out in the kitchen didn't help either.

"Yeah actually," I shrug, not wanting to hurt his feelings, "It was good, thanks for inviting me, by the way." 

"No problem," Sam says, "I'm glad you had fun, we're not too young for you then?" I know he's joking, but I really hope people don't think I have that kind of attitude towards them. I mean, I guess I hated being older than them all at first, but I don't really care anymore, it doesn't make a difference and I'd be an asshole to have a superiority complex just because I was born six months earlier.

"You've probably had more party experience than me," I huff, smiling. 

"We do get together a lot, to be fair," He replies, referencing the group still here I assume, "But it's always like this - only ever out of school. Especially with Connor and PJ, they barely speak to anyone but each other, Clarky, Mack and you when we're there." I've noticed, but I didn't really think much of it. 

"I only speak to other people in class," I say, "I mean, it's awkward though, because everyone already seems to have their little groups. Last night was mad, seeing people who I'd never have thought knew of each others existence chatting like best pals." 

"That's what it's always like," Sammy sighs, "I dunno, probably for the best. I think if I spent time with everyone, I'd notice things to dislike, you know?" 

"You don't need to spend time with someone to dislike them," I point out, simply trying to play the devils advocate. I mean, he's right, because the more you spend time with someone the more they become annoying and you notice darker traits. If you keep people at distance, you might only see one side of them, and sometimes that's for the best. 

"True that," Sam agrees, "You like everyone here then?" There's a pause, and it's a milisecond too long, so the silence hanging where my response should have been tells Sammy that I don't actually like everyone here - not at the minute, anyway.

"Yeah," I mumble, blushing. He can tell I'm lying, even the most naive person alive could see through my bullshit right now, but I say it anyway because Sammy isn't someone I know well enough to go spouting and ranting to. 

"Anyone you're not fond of?" He quizzes, smirking at me. I shake my head.

"Everyone seems lovely," I say. I don't want him asking questions really, because I don't want him knowing the answers. The only reason I can't honestly say I like everyone is because Hilda makes me want to punch a wall, and all because she kissed someone I want to kiss - it's not easy to explain, nor is it easy to understand.

"They're about as good as it gets round here," Sam chuckles, and I assume he's not being serious. It's kind of a back handed compliment, but I don't dwell on it. This is Sammy, he'll joke about anything at anyone's expense according to PJ. "I love them though, known them years - since primary." 

"I don't think I've been good friends with anyone for that long," I scoff, thinking back to all the lost friends and fizzled out relationships. I've always had Cat, and I've always had PJ, but I didn't really grow up with them, I was always bouncing between places and homes and schools.

"What about PJ?" He asks. 

"What about PJ?" Dana repeats, mocking a gasp before walking over to the toaster. "Sammy you monster, no brown bread?" 

"Only white," Sammy informs her, exaggerating disappointment.

"When will the racism end?" Dana huffs, shaking her head at the half eaten loaf of bread. I chuckle at her and she flashes me a grin. "So what about PJ, for real?" 

"Nothing," I mumble, happy to change topics. 

"PJ!" Dana calls, "Dan is slagging you off! He says you're a massive knob-" Sammy and I both laugh.

"Fuck you too Dan!" PJ yells into the kitchen. I hear a couple of laughs from the living room, I think they know Dana is joking. 

"I love you really PJ!" I call back, glaring at Dana, who's laughing at herself proudly. "Your toaster takes the piss Sam." Talking about breakfast is better than talking about people, right now anyway. 

"Stop insulting things in my kitchen," Sam protests, "My bread isn't good enough, now my toaster is shite! There's no pleasing you bastards." 

"I just want my toast to be ready," I sigh, shaking my head at the toaster as if it can acknowledge my reaction. "What are they talking about in there?" I ask Dana.

"Some random fucking bullshit," She shrugs, "Wasn't paying attention, I was busy deciding if I was hungry or not." I want to laugh at that, but I just smile at her, shaking my head. She grins again.

"That's the most Dana thing you've ever said," Sammy says, staring at her in some form of awe. "I'm so-" The pop of my toast from the toast makes us all jump. I eagerly take it out, putting on a shitty paper plate from last night and smothering it with shitty butter and jam. Not the fanciest breakfast I've ever had, but also not the worst. 

I walk back into the living room and sit back on the couch, blanking Connor as I walk past him. "What did I miss?" I ask, taking a bite out of my toast.

"We're talking about who'd be best in bed out of everyone here," Mack explains, "I said Nick because he'll fuck anything that moves." 

"I won't dispute that," Nick says, smirking. I continue eating the toast, not throwing myself into the conversation for a reason. 

"You'd be shit in bed," Tom scoffs at him, laughing. I laugh along with everyone, but honestly I'd much rather be talking about something less sexual. 

"Nick would come in like two minutes," Hilda agrees, chuckling. Okay, my dislike of the conversation aside, I'm with Hilda on that. Nick just seems really excitable, I imagine he'd blow out kind of quick - not that I want to imagine that, especially not when I'm eating, but I can't avoid thinking about it now that they're discussing it fairly in depth. 

"My stamina is flawed," Nick admits, somehow keeping a straight face, "But I think I make up for it with passion and power." The rest of us laugh, and he just grins proudly. 

"If you say shit like that you'll never get laid again," Tom snickers, "Might be for the best."

"You say it like you've even had sex," Nick retorts, rodding Tom who continues to laugh at either Nick or his own joke. I don't think either are that hilarious, but they're entertaining to say the least. "Shut up, for fucks sake. Who do you think would be better?" 

"Dan," Tom shrugs. I feel my face heat up. I did not want to be brought into this game. 

"Me?" I scoff, "Is that a joke?" It must be. Either way, I want nothing to do with this conversation. I don't want to talk about my sex life, however non-existent it is, or was. It's nothing to do with anyone here. 

"You're older," Tom explains, "More experience means more skill. Don't be modest!" 

"Dan's still a virgin," Connor spits, laughing, "No experience means no skill." And with just that one sentence, any guilt or regret about ignoring Connor last night suddenly disappears. Fucking asshole.

"Oh," PJ cuts in, "You and him both then?" Connor goes bright red, glaring at PJ - who I could quite honestly kiss right now. I didn't expect anyone to say anything back really. People would probably just have brushed it off as a joke, that's all it was supposed to be. Now, people are laughing at Connor, which is far better than them laughing at me. I'm thankful to Peej for that.

"How do you even know Dan's a virgin?" Nick asks, "Do you even remember if you fucked anyone Dan?" I know he doesn't mean to sound rude or anything, but the last thing I want to think about right now is my memory loss, and especially not when it concerns Phil. I doubt anyone here wants to know about that stuff either. 

"Not really," I mutter.

"Do you think you did?" Tom quizzes, "I reckon you'd just know if you had, like you'd be able to feel it-"

"Nope," I sigh, "I don't think it works like that." I look up at him, frowning, and see Dana stood in the door way munching at her toast. She gives me a sympathetic smile and I return one, appreciating it.

"That's a bit shit then," Nick says, "I'd be gutted if I got laid and then forgot about it. Can you imagine?" Funnily enough, I can. I know they're not being insensitive on purpose, but it's still not exactly nice to hear. I'm trying to be normal about it, but I can't stop myself feeling shitty. 

"Did you have a girlfriend before you left?" Tom asks.

"Can you even remember that?" Hilda inquires, tilting her head and looking at me with narrowed eyes - as if trying to analyse me. I shift uncomfortably, looking away from her gaze.

"No," I tell them, "I don't think I've ever had a girlfriend." 

"Really?" Hilda gasps, "Sounds like bullshit to me. I bet last year girls were all over you. I bet you just can't remember." She's right about one thing - I really can't remember.

"Can't you get in touch with your old mates and ask?" Nick suggests, oblivious to the fact I'm actually already doing that. I haven't asked those sorts of questions though, because frankly I don't give a fuck if 'girls were all over' me. I care about finding Phil and seeing Cat and Chris and everyone else again. 

"Well-" I begin, but I'm quickly cut off.

"Stop fucking bugging him you pricks," Dana snaps, "He's obviously uncomfortable." I look up at her and give her another small smile. She returns it, shrugging slightly.

"I didn't mean to pry-" Nick begins.

"Sorry they're nosey pricks Dan," Dana continues, "Can't be helped." She disappears back into the kitchen, and part of me wants to follow her. I conclude that I really like Dana, currently more so than Connor - and most people here to be fair. Hilda can piss off. Sammy and his shit toaster can too. PJ and Freddy are nice though, I'm not mad at them. I'm not mad at Nick or Tom either, to be fair. I'm just agitated about Connor and I have nowhere else to direct that frustration. I should've just told them straight - that I have no interest in girls.

"It's fine," I lie, "We're friends, you're allowed to want to know about my past." Yet the questions don't continue, and the conversation swiftly moves on. Most of all, I'm just glad nobody challenged me on the 'friends' line. I don't know if I really consider them my friends yet - but maybe. 

I think I'd like that, and clearly, they would too. 

-

It's one by the time we all leave. PJ, Connor and I are the last to go - PJ insisted on helping Sammy clean up some of the mess, although it was relatively tidy in comparison to your stereotypical house party mess. We're a clean bunch, I suppose.

"Did you have fun then?" Connor asks, walking between me and PJ. I'm still dead set on ignoring him, which is very clear by now, but nobody has questioned me about it. I think they're done with asking me things, and PJ won't quiz me until Connor is gone. He's not a fan of confrontation.

"It was okay," PJ says, "I'm not sure house parties are my thing though. It was kind of loud." 

"What did you expect?" Connor scoffs. PJ shrugs.

"Not that," PJ mutters, "I had fun, don't get me wrong. I really did! I didn't think I'd see so many people making out, either-"

"Who made out?" Connor gasps, laughing. I see and a chance and take it.

"You and Hilda," I remind him, my tone icy. He stops dead in the pavement, staring at me as I continue walking with PJ - who also keeps going. 

"What?" He snorts, "Dan!" He jogs and catches back up with us both, grabbing my arm as soon as it's within distance. I shake him off, back to the ignoring part. It's much more fun. 

"Charles kissed Alice," PJ continues, blurting out name after name to try and veer the conversation - but I'm tuned out and Connor is just silent, staring at the ground in confusion. I'm trying not to look back at him, but I also want to see how he looks - you can tell a lot from someones facial expression. I'm just too stubborn to turn around and look at it. 

"Is that what this is about?" Connor snaps, after a couple of minutes of PJ's bullshit rambling. "You think-"

"What?" PJ cuts in, "I'm confused! What's about-"

"Shut up," Connor hisses at him. I glare.

"Don't talk to PJ like that," I say, returning the favour from when PJ had my back earlier. PJ is clearly confused anyway, and so he should be. Nobody else should understand why I'm mad - I don't want them to. 

"Don't lecture me on how to treat PJ," Connor scoffs, "Not after how you-"

"This isn't about PJ," I interrupt, mostly because I don't want to be reminded of how I used to be with him - not that I was anything at all with him. That was kind of the problem though. I ignored him for almost five years, and that obviously hurt him more than he's willing to admit to me.

"What isn't about me?" PJ asks, looking from me to Connor and back. I'm surprised that he hasn't worked it out yet, but also relieved by that. I don't think I want him to work it out. Not now, not ever.

"Dan ignored me all fucking night," Connor explains to him, "I don't even know why!" I call bullshit. Why is he acting so clueless? He knows what he did. It's not like you can just forget that you kissed someone!

"You should!" I retort, shoving PJ's gate open with much more force than necessary, causing it to bang against the wall far too loudly.

"Why are you being so pissy?" Connor groans, "You're fucking pathetic-"

"Stop fighting," PJ pleads, "What does this have to do with-"

"Why are you acting so innocent?" I ask Connor, glaring at him. We're stood in PJ's doorway, gathered awkwardly instead of actually going inside. I don't think PJ's parents would appreciate us yelling at each other indoors. It's not something they need to hear. "You know what you've done! Didn't you think that would fucking hurt me-"

"I have no idea what I've done," Connor spits, "You're just being a prick for no reason! I didn't-"

"Shut up," PJ cuts in, "Stop screaming at each other! Why can't you just talk about it-"

"Fuck off PJ," Connor grunts, "We're not ten! This is bullshit, Dan. You're the one being a fucking child-"

"I'm not being a child!" I yell, kicking PJ's wall. "You're being a twat!" 

"Fuck this," Connor huffs, "You can ring me when you're done being a little shit. Fuck you, Dan." He never did, and he never fucking will! I can feel my chest tightening as he walks away, but I don't shout him back. He's not worth it. He's not. 

"Come on Dan," PJ grabs my arm and pulls me inside. "You've got some explaining to do." And oddly enough, I find myself explaining everything - or at least everything to do with Connor.

-

PJ listens really well. He doesn't interrupt or ask me too many questions, he simply sits, his arm around me as I sob into his shoulder about a boy I should never have gotten in this deep with. I regret it all. 

"I'm just angry," I mumble, "So fucking angry." 

"You should be," PJ sighs, "Why would he even go for Hilda? She's nothing special. Especially compared to you." I smile at the comments, figuring it's just PJ being nice. He knows I need to hear this stuff. I need someone to convince me that Connor is a prick. I need someone to hate Connor with. 

"I reckon I never liked him that much anyway," I lie. I really liked Connor - much more than I had realised. If I hadn't then this would never have bothered me so much. If that were even a little bit true, I wouldn't feel like pure and utter shit right now. "I was just bored and lonely."

"I wish you weren't, Dan," PJ says, wrapping his other arm around me, "Connor is a prick. You can do better anyway - you deserve better. Someone who actually cares." I smile at that. 

PJ is playing into my fucking hands.

And I don't want to fuck with PJ. I don't want to mess with his head.

I just want to hurt Connor.

And he's a little caught up in the cross fire - stood there for his own reasons.

"I know," I say, grinning. PJ returns the smile, but I only see it for a split second before I'm grabbing his face and pulling him towards me - kissing him with every tiny particle of bitterness I have in me. Better yet?

He's kissing me back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update took longer than expected and it's not as good as I'd hoped - for that I'm sorry? 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it - feedback is always appreciated! :)


	13. Another shitty life decision

An hour passes. I'm not angry anymore. Just scared. Really, really scared. 

PJ is cuddled up to my side, his arm across my chest and his head buried in the crook of my neck, pressing light kisses against it every now and then.

We're talking, but my brain isn't really in the room. I feel distant, like I'm watching from above and telling myself to stop. But my body isn't responding. My body isn't doing much at all. My mouth is saying words I don't really mean and it's too late. It's happened now. 

"I had a crush on you when we were like ten," PJ giggles, and I find myself doing the same, smiling at an idea that is actually rather sad. That's six years. Six years of being ignored by someone who you looked up to so much must have been crushing. It didn't stop him though - he's still here now, soaking up every drop of my attention. "I always thought it would go away. It never did." 

"Was I worth the wait?" I ask. He kisses my neck again. My stomach churns. It's not even Connor bothering me anymore. It's just that I know this can't end well - I don't feel for PJ like that. I don't think I have it in me to feel for him like that, but now he believes I do and that's all my fault. 

I acted out because I was angry at Connor, at Hilda, at the entire fucking world. I acted out and kissed one of my best friends, and now I'm going to break his heart - and for what? To prove a fucking point to Connor? I'm an idiot. 

"I was convinced you liked Connor," PJ continues, ignoring my question - which probably isn't the worst thing in the world. 

"I do like Connor," The words fall out of my mouth before I can really think them over, and I feel PJ freeze by my side, his grip tightening a little and the silence growing a tiny bit sharper. "I really like Connor." 

How much more can I fuck this up before it's no longer salvageable? 

I've probably already fucked this all up enough, but I can't stop. I can't see how I can do anything to make this better at this point. 

"Is that why you're doing this?" PJ asks quietly, his grip getting looser again. 

"Yes," I admit. Honesty is my only way out. PJ knows everything with Connor now - it's too late to take it all back, and I can't undo the kiss or pretend I didn't hear everything PJ said to me about how he felt and how much he hated Connor. 

"That makes sense," Is all PJ says. I can't conjure up any sort of response to that, instead just staring at the ceiling and regretting every fucking choice I've made this weekend - and this year. "You want to hurt him." 

"I don't know," I sigh, being as honest as I possibly can. Part of me wants Connor to be riddled with pain and guilt, but another part of me knows that won't fix anything, and then a different part of me just wants things to go back to how they were before last night. I'm not sure which train of thought I should follow. 

"I'd want to hurt him," PJ scoffs, "I've never been cheated on before but-"

"It wasn't cheating," I cut in, "Not technically. We were never together, or exclusive. We just..." I let the sentence trail off, unsure of how to even explain what me and Connor were. Nothing seems to summarize it right. 

"I get it," PJ says, "I do. But I still think you should make it even." 

"PJ..." Part of me wants to agree. I run with it. "Maybe you're right." That was what I wanted at first, anyway, the gut feeling I got when PJ told me was to hurt Connor back - maybe it will make me feel just a little bit better knowing that Connor understands what it feels like for me too.

"When am I wrong, Dan?" PJ chuckles, "Plus, I know exactly what we can do." 

-

I get home at around five. My mum is waiting for me, frowning as I walk through the living room. "You're late," She said, "Why didn't you at least text me? I expected that, at the very least." 

"Sorry," I mutter, "My phone died." It's not untrue, but I doubt that I'd have texted her either. She knew where I was, so why would she need to get mad? I'm not even that late.

"You should've fetched your charger," She sighs, "Your dinner will be ready soon, shall I warm it up?" That wasn't the response I'd expected - usually I'd get a lecture for being late. I remember in one of the flashbacks I got yelled at for being so late home - like, really yelled at. In fact, that's happened a few times in them, yet I've done the exact same thing now and she's barely even said anything about it. 

I guess that's the difference my friends can have. She likes PJ and Connor, so why wouldn't she mind me spending extra time with them? It was Cat that she never liked. I don't recall how she felt about Phil or Chris or anyone else, but Cat was always deemed a bad influence because my mum caught her swearing once. It was all downhill from there. 

"I'm fine," I say, "I ate at Phil's." I'm not going to call her out for not lecturing me more, it's a good thing. I'm just surprised, is all.

"Phil's?" Mum scoffs. I feel my cheeks heat up. Did I say Phil? Fuck. "Who's-"

"PJ?" I correct myself, frowning at her, "I meant to say PJ." I don't tell her what she wants to hear and give her some justification of why I said his name. I said his name because I was thinking about him, which is become an incredibly common thing recently. She knows that I remember Phil, she just doesn't want me to. I wonder why that is, but I can't ask her without it causing an argument. I don't want to fight about it until I know everything. 

I know that I can't remember every day I spent back there. I won't have a flashback about every single occurrence, but I'd like to think I could remember the most of it - the parts that matter at least.

"You don't know anyone called Phil," Mum says, firmly as if she's teaching me something new. "Is there someone in your year at school called Phil? Where did you-"

"Just a stupid mistake," I shrug, "I said the wrong name, why does it matter?" Playing dumb is probably safer. The less she knows about what I remember, the better. I don't want to have to go back to counselling.

"Hmph," She mumbles, "You're acting weird, Dan. Were you drinking last night-"

"No," I cut in, "Anyway, I've got homework to do." I shoot off upstairs, and she doesn't call me back down. I know I've fucked up by saying Phil's name, but surely she can't care that much? It's a wonder she even noticed. 

I go straight onto my laptop, logging to Facebook eagerly. The only person online is Cat, and I'm kind of relieved. She messages me instantly. 

**C: DANNNNN**

**D: I was just going to message you, actually! I had a weird dream last night again.**

I wasn't going to tell Cat about it, but I have nobody else to talk to. She could clear somethings up for me, even if it is a sensitive subject for us both. Who else do I have? I don't think Phil is going to come up out of the woodwork anytime soon - not from the way people talk, anyway. 

**C: You can call them flashbacks, Dan. That is what they are?**

**D: That makes it sound weirder.**

**C: You mean ten times cooler? Dreams are fun but flashbacks are just fucking badass!**

**D: This one wasn't! We were fighting, I think you'd walked in on me and Phil and you figured out that we were together?**

**C: Oh, I remember that.**

**D: How could you forget? You have no excuse...**

**C: You remember how I reacted then?**

**D: Yeah, not as I'd hoped.**

**C: I'm sorry about that. I was being a fuckwit. I think I was just shocked - I did catch a half naked Phil on top of you (I hope you remembered that part, looked like you were having a fucking ball)**

Considering where I was when I had that dream, I'm pretty fucking glad I didn't remember that. I mean, not that I don't want to remember those experiences - I'm sure they were great. I just don't want to remember those when I'm passed out in a new friends kitchen surrounded by people who barely know me. 

**D: Wow, nope, only remembered the yelling part - disappointing. It was weird though, did we always fight like that?**

**C: It was rare, but did fight more than ever before. You always said how I'd changed. I didn't see it. I think I do now though - you don't remember this, but you were right about it all.**

**D: I can't really say I told you so if I don't remember what I told you, can I?**

We chat for a couple of hours before she goes offline to shower. I do the same anyway, taking the time to think about how badly I've fucked up this weekend, and how I've pretty much destroyed my chances with Connor - not that I should still want a chance with him now. Still, I feel shitty about it.

PJ's reaction surprised me though. He told me that he pretty much really liked me, and I told him pretty bluntly that I was only interested in fucking with Connor, yet he's still eager to do whatever it is we're going to do. We never actually figured that out, but PJ says he knows what will piss him off and I trust that. I think I just want to make him jealous, and I know PJ will be more than willing to help me do that. I just hope he remembers I don't see him in that way.

If not - is it really my fault when he gets hurt? I told him the truth, what more can I do? He was the one willing to let me use him. PJ is a big boy, he knows what the fuck he's getting himself into.

When I get out of the shower, Cat is still offline but Chris has come on. I waste no time, inboxing him straight away. He's quick to reply too, and we soon launch into conversation about anything and everything - as usual. 

**C: So when are you going to come up to Manchester again? We all want to see you.**

I hadn't expected him to ask that. Nobody has brought it up in a while - me included. I just figured they'd invite me up when they wanted me to come. I would like it to be soon though, just to get it out of the way. It's probably the only way I can talk to Phil too, none of them have his new number. I wonder why they don't talk to him anymore.

**D: I don't know really. When is everyone free? I want to see you all, even the ones I don't remember much of. Can you get Phil to go somehow too?**

**C: I'm always free!!!!!!!! I think they'd all make time though if you gave a date. You could even stay over so that we can spend more time catching up??? My place is always free - and most people are free on weekends sooooo...**

**D: Find out when Phil is free, please?**

**C: I can't Dan.**

The response is enough to infuriate me. Why can't he? Why won't anyone let me talk to him? Does Phil not want to speak to me? It makes no sense and nobody is even trying to make it easier. 

**D: Why the fuck not? I don't get why I can't just ring him or something.**

**C: It's not what you think though. It's really not.**

What kind of bullshit response is that? It's not an answer! At the very least, I want to know why they can't talk to me about him. Is that what he wants? For me to just stop thinking about him? I wish it was that easy. 

**D: What? Is he fucking dead or something? Why won't anyone tell me about him? He was my fucking boyfriend and I deserve to know!**

Chris doesn't reply. 

**D: Don't ignore me.**

And just like that, he goes offline. I slam my laptop lid down. I feel like crying on it. Why wouldn't he respond? It wasn't like I was asking much - I just want to know how he is. A simple 'he's alright' would be fine, but it's like whenever I talk about him, they all shy away like they don't want to. 

It's not fair - he's all I want to talk about. 

And I barely even remember him.

Once I've chilled out a little, I turn my laptop back on, giving in. Nobody I want to talk to is online, so I end up just scrolling through sites for a few hours before I feel like going to bed. I don't even feel tired, but as soon as my head hits the pillow, I'm out like a light.

-

_"Phil," I squeal, trying to shove him away, "Stop it!" He knows I hate being tickled, but he thinks it's funny to see me squirming and screaming like I always do. He does stop though, laughing and grabbing my hips, pulling me back to him so he's hugging me from behind. I hold back a smile._

_"Spoil sport," He says, kissing the side of my head._

_"Shut up," I mumble, smiling. "Are you going to tell them today?" He said he would, and the way I see it the sooner, the better. If he waits too long they'll only accuse him of lying or hiding it from them._

_"Not today," Phil huffs, "It's supposed to be good. I don't want to upset anyone." He's too considerate like that. They should all be happy for him, regardless of whether or not they like it. Personally, I think it's brilliant, and I'm super proud. It's a shame not everyone can see it that way._

_"It's not your fault if they're being assholes about it," I tell him, slipping out of his hug. I sit back down on the grass, where we were sprawled out before Phil decided it was a good idea to tickle me. The park is practically deserted, so we don't feel bad being a little more touchy-feely with each other, which makes for a nice change._

_"You know what they're like, Dan," Phil sighs as he lays back down on his stomach, leaning on his elbows , "Chris would be devastated, and I don't want Cat-"_

_"Cat's coming today?" I cut in, confused. I didn't know she'd been invited. It's not that I don't want Cat here, it's just that Marcus is coming, and after everything, I don't want Cat here with Marcus - that's a cause for trouble._

_"She said so," Phil replies, "I don't think she'll cause any trouble, Dan, don't worry."_

_"She might," I huff, unsure. I don't know what to expect of Cat these days - she's so on edge all the time. Anything and everything will set her off ranting or put her in a bad mood. It's like no matter what you say, you'll always be saying the wrong thing._

_I know it's only because she's still mad about the whole Marcus thing, but it's been so long that I'm almost sure there are other factors causing her to act out so much. Not that she'll talk to me about them, not anymore. Things have changed, and she's not willing to talk it out yet. All I can do is be nice to her and wait until she's happy to have a normal, pleasant conversation with me._

_"Especially if I mention anything about my results," Phil points out, "I don't want to be the reason she gets mad."_

_"You won't be," I assure him, "It'll be me. Or Marcus. We're the ones she seems to fucking hate - not that we did anything wrong at all." It was Cat's fault, but there's no telling her that. She think I'm awful for telling him about Joe, and she thinks that he's awful for dumping her. I think he's smart, but I suppose that's personal opinion. I just don't think cheating is ever acceptable._

_"Shut up, Marcus is coming," Phil says, pointing to the left._

_It's a huge park, and all we can see is green grass and the occasional park bench around us, so Marcus's tall silhouette is easy to spot. He gives us a big wave, flapping both arms eagerly. He doesn't rush over though, walking at a steady pace instead, which I can hardly blame him for. Running isn't my thing either._

_"Hello," He calls as he nears, "Could spot you two from a mile off." He sits down, stretching his legs out and leaning back on his hands. "Just two dark dots in the middle of a bright field."_

_"Piss off," I scoff._

_"And I threw in a dash of colour today," Phil chuckles, "Look at my shirt!" He's right, his shirt isn't black for once (it's red). To be fair, we can be kind of colourful when we want to be, but me and Phil learnt the hard way that if you even vaguely resemble an emo one time, you're friends will never let you forget it._

_"Go you," Marcus says, laughing along, "You still look like an emo Dan." I nod, smirking. I mean, I didn't do much to fight the stereotype - I'm pretty sure everything I'm wearing is black. Still, it wasn't an intentional look I went for, it's just a nice outfit._

_"Did you know Cat was coming today?" I ask him, raising my eyebrows._

_"Nope," He sighs, "Who invited her?" It definitely wasn't me. I don't know if Chris would, and I think Phil would have told me if it was him. Cassie isn't coming, so it can't be her. Joe isn't either, for obvious reasons. So it must have been Chris - who else is there?_

_"Probably Chris," I shrug, looking at Phil, who just nods. "Idiot."_

_"Don't you want to make up with her?" He asks. It's not me with the problem, it's her. I'm happy for things to go back to normal, she just refuses to let that happen._

_"Yeah," I reply, "I just don't want her to flip out and ruin today." Phil reaches over and rubs my knee, smiling._

_"She won't," He says, but how can he be sure? I know he's just trying to make me feel better, but I don't need to be told something that isn't true - how can that make me feel better at all? "I mean, hopefully not, anyway." That sounds more accurate._

_"I still you need to tell them though," I mumble to him, fully aware Marcus can hear me fine. Phil rolls his eyes._

_"Daaaaan," He groans. I shuffle over to him and he sits up, wrapping his arms around my waist._

_"You know I'm right," I state, smiling at Marcus, who frowns at us both._

_"Something you need to tell us?" Marcus asks. Phil sighs. I lean back, putting my head in his lap. He looks down at me, glaring, but I smile back up at him in encouragement. He sighs again. "Phil?"_

_"Wait until Cat and Chris get here then," He says. Marcus accepts that, and the conversation takes a more positive turn._

_It's another half an hour before Cat and Chris show their faces. They come running over, squealing as they throw themselves to the ground with us. Cat sits up, hugging her legs to her chest, and Chris mirrors her._

_"You seem happy," I say, raising my eyebrows._

_"Cracking observation," Cat sneers. I don't bother responding, instead just rolling my eyes at her sarcastic comment._

_"So what were you talking about?" Chris asks, looking directly at us. Phil's hands had been running through my hair, but as soon as he realizes Chris is looking, he begins leaning back on them. I know it's because he doesn't want Chris to get all pissy again, but I hate that Chris still gets pissy at all. It wasn't even that bad!_

_"Stuff," I shrug, "Nothing really."_

_"Boring little tossers," Cat says, laughing, "Or do you just not want to tell us?"_

_"I do have something to tell you, actually," Chris begins. I sit up, facing him and offering a supportive smile. He's doing the right thing. Waiting would only make them angrier. "You know how I got my results yesterday? Well-"_

_"Did you do well?" Marcus cuts in, grinning already, "What did you get?"_

_"I passed everything," Phil explains, "I got all A's-"_

_"That's amazing," Chris gasps._

_"Well done," Cat mumbles, nodding at him. Marcus is grinning too, but it's no real surprise. We all knew how smart Phil was anyway, we just pretended like we didn't. Phil doesn't like us highlighting that very often, he hates being singled out._

_"Thanks," He continues, "Anyway, so basically, it means I've got enough points to get into Oxford-"_

_"What?" Chris quizzes, "Oxford? Would you really go there, Phil? What-"_

_"I've got a place," Phil says, "It's mine if I want it."_

_"But you don't want it," Cat snaps, raising her eyebrows. I glare at her. He does want it. He wants it so bad - and he fucking deserves it. I don't understand why they're so reluctant to see that._

_"What do you know about what he wants?" Marcus hisses, flashing her a dirty look, "He can make his own decisions! I think it's amazing-"_

_"It's bullshit," Chris quips, "It's not where you want to go, Phil? It's a uni for posh, smart and rich wankers who are so far up their own arse-"_

_"What do you know?" I spit, "He worked hard to get in, he earned his fucking place! Why are you being such a dick about it?" Of course they were going to react like this. I was an idiot to think otherwise. They can't think about anyone but themselves and neither of them want Phil to leave. Unfortunately for them, it isn't their choice._

_"I knew you were going to be like this," Phil blurts, shoving my head off of his knee and standing up, "You all knew I wanted this! Stop ruining everything for me, for fucks sake-"_

_"Me?" Chris says, as if the idea is shocking to him. Is he really that unaware of his own ignorance? Heck, I thought he was doing it on purpose. Maybe he is, Chris just fucking loves playing the victim. "I just don't want you to fuck up your life-"_

_"Shut up," Phil snaps back, "You're the ones fucking up my life right now! I want to do this and you're trying to fucking stop me because you think you know what's best when you haven't even taken a minute to ask me about what it is that I want-"_

I wake up with a start, a familiar sick feeling in my stomach and an aching in my chest as the flashback hits me all over again and comes together.

Cat and Chris were twats - like huge fucking twats! Phil got into Oxford? That's...new? Maybe that's where he went? 

And, just maybe, that's why they don't want him back. 

Once again, I'm left with a million questions and nobody to ask. This time is different though, this time I think I'm going to be a little more afraid of the answers.


	14. Lies ft. Confusion

School on Monday is awful. I don't feel like facing Connor or PJ or Clarky, or anyone at all. I don't want to talk to Cat, I don't want to go back to sleep and I don't want to keep remembering all of this bullshit.

Still, I find myself at school at twenty to nine anyway, PJ by my side giggling furiously over what we're going to do. I still have doubts, more so than before actually. 

"I don't think we should do it," I say, leaning back against the wall. PJ looks at me with a look of disappointment, but also understanding. He knows how I feel, and I know how he feels. We're only playing for our own gain. "I want to get him back, I just don't think this will work." 

"Why not?" PJ asks. 

"Connor won't care," I explain, "He knows I don't like you in that way, so he'll know we're doing it on purpose. Plus, it will only weird Clarky out - we don't need him asking questions either." I don't know how Clarky would handle all of this, he doesn't seem like the most understanding or accepting type - he'd definitely have questions. However, at the same time, he definitely isn't the hateful, nasty type either. He'd probably just be confused, and why bother doing that to him? Clarky doesn't need to know anything.

"So what are you going to do?" PJ sneers, "How else-" I can't tell him, but I have to give him some excuse.

"I'm just going to act like I don't care," I lie, "Pretend that I've moved on and forgotten. You know what Connor is like, he'll be pissed as fuck if he thinks he isn't the most important thing in my life anymore." PJ gives me a weird look.

"He was the most important thing?" He says, with a tone that suggests he's kind of surprised by this. He's staring at me with blank eyes, raising his eyebrows. I guess that just wasn't something he wanted to hear - I hadn't really thought about that. "I know you were close, I just-"

"No," I cut in, "He wasn't." I'm not sure what my priority has been over these few months, but it has never been anyone here. 

"Oh," PJ mumbles, "So you're just going to act like you normally do?" 

"Minus the romantic stuff," I say, figuring that the romantic stuff had definitely become normal for me and Connor. "But yeah, normal." In front of everyone else, anyway.

I'd spent some time thinking about this, and I realized that if I really wanted to annoy Connor, I'd have to hit him where it hurts. I'm being an arsehole, but at least I'm a self-aware arsehole. I'll only keep it up until he explains himself and apologizes to me. Until then, I'm going to dangle Freddy in front of his face - going by the logic that Freddy was the person Mack caught him necking off with. 

"Alright then," PJ sighs. I know he might be disappointed, but it's for the best. He'd only end up getting more upset if it worked and Connor wanted to work things out - because this time he'd know about us properly. Plus, me using Freddy doesn't really have anyone's feelings at stake. Connor will only get jealous (he can fucking live with that) and I want to get better friends with Freddy and Dana and that group anyway, so it's a win-win for me if it works. 

"Sorry," I reply, forcing a smile. "We can just forget that the kiss ever happened." I thought that was a good suggestion, but from the look on PJ's face it's clearly not. 

"You can," PJ whispers, looking up at me with darker eyes. I break eye contact, looking around the yard instead. We're earlier than usual, so it's quieter and I can't see anyone to call over or go and talk to, which means I'm stuck in an incredibly awkward conversation with someone who's now very mad at me. 

"Sorry," I repeat, quieter this time. PJ forces a smile, taking a deep breath. 

"Don't be," PJ says, "I get it." I'm glad he's not completely bitching out at me, but I know he's still upset. I need to make it up to him somehow, I just don't know what could make him feel better. I can't force myself to like him, I can't give him what he wants and that isn't my fault.

I really wish he didn't like me. It changes everything, and I haven't really thought fully about that yet - I don't want to. It's not PJ's fault, but he's made everything so much more complicated by telling me that. I mean, Connor has said it from the start, but I ignored him and that was for a reason. If I know how PJ feels, I can't be with Connor, or think about being with Phil, without a little bit of guilt filtering in. It must suck for him, and that's partly on me - especially now he knows all about Connor. 

"Right," I mumble with my eyes still locked onto the ground. 

"I think I can see Mack," PJ says, swiftly changing the topic. I look up and my eyes flick to where PJ is staring and smiling - he's right. Mack is stood there, her navy hair giving her away. She's with Dana. I don't think they've noticed us.

"Shout her over," I suggest. PJ yells her name and she turns and smiles before turning back to Dana for a minute. They both walk over then, grinning.

"It's Monday, why are you smiling?" I ask her, frowning. Dana and Mack both laugh, and PJ smiles along for the sake of it all.

"Not everyone is as depressed as you, Dan," Mack scoffs, smiling at me. I roll my eyes at her, but I'm giggling so she knows I don't think she's serious. "Did you have a good weekend then?" 

"It was interesting," I say, figuring there's no other word that could quite summarize it. 

"Definitely," PJ agrees, looking at me with a secret smile. I smile back and hope that Mack and Dana can't tell how weird he's being.

"I was so tired yesterday," Mack says, "I had a four hour nap and forgot to do the three loads of homework Mr Brook set - so I'm basically fucked."

"You can hold Sammy accountable for that," PJ says, "It was his party." 

"I'm blaming whoever brought that bottle of white," She giggles, "I was gone." If I remember right, she wasn't actually that bad, but she definitely seemed groggy that morning. Maybe she's just not an obvious drunk.

"Don't blame me," Dana sneers, "It isn't my fault you can't handle the good shit. Fucking weakling." I laugh along with them. "And anyway-"

"Clarky's coming," PJ cuts in, "Shut up about it." As if demonstrating, I take a deep breath in and press my lips together tightly. Dana laughs at me and Mack just shakes her head.

"Acting natural is definitely not your strong point," Dana says to me, smirking. I grin at her and then turn to Clarky as he approaches, smirking.

"Dana," He exclaims, "What are you doing with these cretins?" 

"Fuck off," PJ gasps, shoving his arm gently. Clarky just grins, looking Dana up at down. She raises her eyebrows at him, but she's smiling.

"Wore my skirt extra short," Dana says, "Just for you, Willy." We all laugh, but mostly because she just called him Willy and it doesn't matter how old I am, that word will always tickle me.

"I told you not to call me that," Clarky groans, but even he's smirking.

"You've been telling me not to call you it since year seven," Dana replies, smiling innocently at him, "I don't know why you think I'm going to listen to you now." Clarky just sighs, shaking his head at her. He must really hate being called Willy, which I can obviously understand - not from personal experience, though I have been called a dick on many occasions, so I think I get the gist. 

"One day," Clarky says, "You'll call me Clarky. That day will be the best day of my life." 

"Aw," Mack chuckles. Dana is grinning at him, a smug look across her face as she eyes him up and down, biting her lip. If I didn't know any better, and if Clarky wasn't Clarky, I'd say she was checking him out. It might be mean of me to say it, but she seems way out of his league. Clarky is uncool in every possible way. Dana is cool as fuck in every possible way. Surely, she is not seriously checking him out. Maybe it's just how they are with each other - then again, opposites attract, and if I'm not actually reading too far into the look she's giving him, I would most definitely support that relationship. Clarky deserves someone like Dana, even if I do personally think she's beyond his pulling ability. Maybe she thinks he's beyond hers. Either way, they're not two people I'd pair together. In fact, this might be one of the first times I've seen them talking to one another. 

"Go on Dana," I say after giggling, "Make his day. Call him Clarky." 

"Never," Dana sneers, "Can't give him the satisfaction. I made a blood oath in year eight." I laugh at that, not at all surprised.

"It was a paper cut," Clarky snarks, "And you barely bled! You can't even make an oath at thirteen so-"

"Oaths don't have age limits," Dana cuts in, "Plus, you're not worth slitting a wrist over, Willy." Honestly, Dana is my favourite person right now. She's funny, I didn't really expect that. 

"I know people that would disagree," Clarky hits back, running a hand through his ginger hair. He's joking but he looks so serious, I suppose that's why it's funny.

"Your nan doesn't count," Dana says. "And hopefully, nana Janice isn't down with self harm anyway." 

"You don't know nana Jan like I do," Clarky replies, "She's dark, man." I laugh at that, and Mack is practically crying.

"I'm just imaging an older version of Clarky with tits trying to summon satan," Mackenzie howls, just as Connor comes up behind her.

"You were what?" Connor asks, raising his eyebrows. Mack jumps at his voice, spinning around to see him stood there, his face ripe with a mix between concern and amusement.

"Disrespecting nana Jan," Clarky explains, shaking his head at her. I continue laughing, unsure of what the fuck this conversation has come to - that being said, I've had weirder. No need to recall the spy sex conversation...

"How dare you?" Connor gasps, shaking his head at Mack in mock disgust, "Janice is a wonderful old lady, Mackenzie. Don't be rude." Mack puts her hands up in surrender. 

"I'm sorry," Mack says, full sincerity in her voice, before she adds, "Willy." Dana, me and PJ burst out into a new fit of laughter. Connor, lacking context, just awkwardly giggles whilst Clarky rolls his eyes, shifting from one foot to the other.

"This is bullying," Clarky protests, "I'm being attacked!" He's only making us laugh harder, but the laughing comes to sudden halt when Freddy barges between me and PJ.

"What are you doing?" Freddy asks Dana, glaring at her. 

"Talking to my friends," Dana replies, frowning at him, "Our friends, Freddy." He blushes.

"Just weird," He says, "You never usually talk in school. I thought you were um-" Freddy raises his eyebrows at her, as if to indicate something. Whatever it is, she seems to understand.

"You know I would never," She gasps, "We were just talking about Willy's nan." Freddy lets out a small sigh of relief which quickly turns into a giggle. I'm still staring at him in confusion, but everyone else seems fine. Except from Connor, who's bright red and glaring down at the floor, his light hair falling in front of his face. If I weren't angry at him, I'd probably be really bothered by how good he unintentionally looks.

"Jan!" Freddy exclaims, as if he knows her. Maybe everyone knows Jan - am I missing out? "What a bloody babe!" 

"Can we stop talking about nana Jan now?" Clarky requests, stepping forward.

"We will never stop talking about Janice," Mack says, with a seriousness to her tone that makes me question whether or not she's joking.

"Amen to that," Dana agrees, nodding her head. 

"Remember when we went to Flocks Hut and she picked us up and-" Freddy is saying, when Connor suddenly cuts him off.

"I'm going to class," His voice is low, as if he's ready to cry, and he turns with the speed of someone ready to flee a crime scene. I want to follow him. 

Maybe I should.

"It's not even time-" Mack is calling after him, but he doesn't turn back. I know it might be because of me, partly. I know Connor hates being ignored. Only, I wasn't the only one ignoring him. 

Freddy was too.

If I'm right about Freddy being the boy he kissed at that party last year, or whenever, then he's probably way more pissed about that than me. He hadn't spoken to Freddy in a year before the party the other night - and even then, it wasn't the most pleasant words being exchanged. 

"I'll go talk to him," I say, and PJ gives me a look of pure disappointment. 

I can't win. 

I know I said I wouldn't talk to Connor. I want to hurt him, but after seeing him so...bothered by Freddy - I kind of feel bad. Maybe we should just talk it out. It's easier than playing fucked up mind games. 

I follow Connor anyway, going in the same direction as he did. He has maths first, so I assume that's the classroom he's heading to. 

When I get there, he's already stood with someone, and he looks perfectly fine. As I near, I can make out the smaller person beside him is Hilda, and my stomach begins to twist again. I stop, standing in the corner of the corridor, watching them as they flirt and giggle with each other. The jealousy boiling in my stomach is making me feel almost sick. 

I never thought the sight of two people together could make me so...angry.

And as Hilda leans in and wraps her arms around him, pulling him into a hug, the word angry becomes an understatement, and another wave of jealousy stabs into me like a knife into my back. 

Twats. Both of them.

I turn around, trying to hide the look of pure disgust on my face. I can't let anyone know that bothered me. No way. Any guilt or reservations I had about getting Connor back leave. I'm going to befriend Freddy. 

Revenge isn't usually my game, but right now it's all I want to fucking play.

When I get back to the yard, they're all stood in the exact same place, but now they're laughing at something else. "Was Con alright?" Mack asks as I stand between her and Dana.

"Fine," I say, "He was with Hilda." PJ looks at me, flashing a sympathetic smile. I'm grateful for it.

"Do you reckon she fancies him?" Clarky says, "Since when do they talk? I haven't seen them together since year nine." 

"They were getting off at Sammys'," I tell them, forgetting that Clarky wasn't there until it's already too late. "Apparently." 

"Were they?" Mack quizzes, "Really?" 

"I didn't see-" Dana begins.

"When was that?" Clarky asks, cutting in frowning. I look to the others, waiting for someone else to answer. Trust me to fuck this up. 

"I don't know," PJ replies, "A couple of weeks ago. It was only four of them, none of us were invited." Nobody protests this, happy to play along with the lie if it means keeping Clarky in the dark, and therefore avoiding him ever figuring out that we left him out. 

"Oh," Clarky mumbles, looking back down at the floor. I think he's doubtful of the explanation, but not enough to question it. 

"We should go to lesson," Freddy says, looking down at his phone, "See you at break?" He isn't talking directly to me, I know that, but I flash him a smile anyway, and he returns it.

"Definitely," I say. Dana waves and we split, heading to hell for an hour.

-

For the first time ever at break and lunch, it isn't just me, Connor, PJ, Clarky and Mack. 

I've never had a big group before, but I'm not opposed to having one, though I doubt this will become a permanent arrangement considering how long people here have been in set, certain friendship groups. It would be weird for them to split off or join others now. It's only a few months until exam season, what would be the point?

Freddy, Dana and Nick have joined us today, sat around our usual lunch table. It's cramped, but nobody seems to mind. Apart from Connor, who is extremely bothered by Freddy's presence and has done absolutely nothing to hide that fact. Clarky doesn't mind, but he does seem slightly confused about why they're suddenly talking to us so much. Usually, they only really socialize with each other in lessons - Clarky never got the luxury of spending time with them at parties or gatherings outside school.

"Why do schools chicken nuggets taste like soggy, meaty ball sacks?" Dana asks. I assume it's rhetorical question, and a very important one at that. 

"How do you know what soggy, meaty ball sacks taste like?" I retort, smirking at her. 

"That's a story for a different day," Dana says, smirking. I think she's joking, but I mean, I could definitely be wrong. "That's beyond the point though. There's a lot that school ruins for me, but they just have to go and tarnish chicken nuggets too."

"Devastating," Nick agrees. 

"I like them," Clarky counters, "They're-"

"Obviously," PJ says, "You love soggy balls-"

"Oh gosh," Mack snorts, before bursting into a fit of laughter. I join in, watching as Clarky shakes his head at PJ with a look of disgust.

"You've been quiet today," Nick says, prodding Connor who's sat beside him, blank faced and clearly bored (despite our exhilarating conversations). 

"I'm just tired," Connor mutters. I can tell he's lying, and I assume everyone else can, but nobody questions him. 

"Me too," Mack says, "But I'm not sat being a boring little fucker."

"That's open to debate," Dana cuts in, smirking. Mack giggles but brushes her off.

"Perk up sunshine!" She does jazz hands, and Connor throws his sandwich crust at her in retaliation to her optimism. "I'll take that as a no." 

"I think we'll survive," Freddy says, smirking. Connor gulps, looking back down at his half eaten sandwich. That must sting. I can't say I feel sorry for him though. Nobody else seems to notice his reaction, instead continuing with conversation about school. I think it's all most of these people really have in common. 

"You're actually passing maths?" Freddy is saying, raising his eyebrows at Dana.

"Barely," She sneers. "What are you getting?"

"I got an F in the last test," Freddy sighs, "My mum said she'd get me moved into a lower set but I think I'd do even worse in a class with all the thick-"

"I'm in the set below you," PJ cuts in, "We're not all thick, thanks very much." Freddy laughs, not giving a shit. 

"You know what I mean," He shrugs. "Is anyone actually good at maths though? I bet they just bullshit their way through it." I'm actually alright at maths. I always used to be smart, top set for most subjects. When I moved, judging by my results, that all changed. I'm good again now, getting a B in most subjects. 

"Dan is," Clarky says. I roll my eyes at him, annoyed that he called me out. Clarky is good too, actually. 

"Are you?" Freddy asks. I nod, not wanting to lie about it. I'm doing better than most, so it would be unfair to say I was doing badly. 

"I got a B," I tell him, "I'm not an expert but I can show you some stuff if you want any help." I'm offering him help out of spite more than anything. I know it's going to piss Connor off, but if it's going to be beneficial to Freddy then it's a win-win really. 

"That'd be great actually," Freddy says, "Cheers." 

The bell rings, and we head off to last lesson. We have PE, and Freddy lags behind to walk with me, smiling at me. "Are you serious about helping me out?" 

"Yeah," I say, smiling at him. "When do you want to do some?" 

"Could do some now," He suggests, "If you're alright to skip PE." I nod, eagerly. Anything to skip PE. "Cool." He yells Clarky and PJ over. They turn and walk over, leaving Connor and Nick to stand and stare in confusion.

"Tell sir that we've gone to the medical office," Freddy tells them, "We're skipping." 

"What?" Clarky gasps, "Fucking hell, Dan-"

"It's football," I protest, "I never get picked to play anyway. He'll barely notice I'm gone." That's true, I don't think the teacher even knows my name. I keep forgetting his, so I don't give a fuck really. PE isn't my priority subject anyway. 

"It's fun though," PJ says, though he sounds defeated. I scoff at that - it's never fucking fun! It's me and PJ sat on the bench chatting about nonsense for an hour. I mean, it's not going to be much different with Freddy but at least I've got the satisfaction of knowing it will be infuriating Connor.

"See you tomorrow," I say to them. Freddy and I bounce off, sitting on the field behind the back of the school. I show him some algebra and shit for about half an hour before he slams his book shut, frustrated because he can't understand how 'you can times letters by each other'. 

"It makes me feel really stupid," Freddy sighs, "I mean, I'm not actually that thick. I just can't do any maths." I believe him. I've seen his work in English, and it's brilliant. 

"You can't be good at everything," I point out, smiling. "You're doing alright, anyway." I've taught him a couple of basic things, and he seems proud of himself for learning them so quickly. 

"Thanks," He says, looking at me with a small smile, "For everything." 

"Anything to get out of PE," I respond, laughing. He grins back, fully smiling this time. 

"So did you really have a good time this weekend?" He asks, "Or are you just saying that so you don't offend anyone?" 

"It was okay," I say, "The highlight of the night had to be our thrilling debate." I prod him gently in the arm and grabs my hand, throwing it back across my chest as he giggles.

Freddy is cute. There's no denying it. He's tall and really slim, but also muscular, and he's got big yet gentle features, framed by brown curly hair. I can see why Connor liked him. I can see why anyone would like him, with a face like that.

"I stand by my point," He says, "Toy Story still shits on Shrek-"

"You're lying to yourself," I protest, throwing my arm back out into his. He tackles me this time, grabbing me by my arms

"Toy Story is fucking better!" He screams, with all the passion in the world. I respect his belief, but he's wrong. "Admit it." I'm laid out underneath him, trying my best not to see this situation in anything more than a completely platonic light. 

"Never," I hiss. For a minute, I think he's going to punch me, but he brings his arm down and instead tickles my fucking stomach.

I let out a scream, my body shaking and kicking like I've got fucking snakes crawling in my clothes. This was honestly the last thing I expected, but here I am, trapped between Freddy's legs.

I suppose it's further than Connor got. Whoops. 

"Say it!" He demands, laughing at me. 

"Fine!" I squeal, "Stop it!" I fucking hate being tickled, mostly because I can't control my body at all - my limbs just go into freestyle and punch and kick in any and every direction while I let out noises that just don't need to be heard by the world.

"Say it!" Freddy repeats, still finding my state amusing as fuck apparently. 

"Toy Story is better!" I lie. He stops, lightly pinching my cheeks as he climbs off of me. 

"I knew you'd see it my way," He says, smiling. I shake my head, disgusted with myself. Desperation makes you do the most horrific things.

"I hate you," I groan. He just laughs again, sitting up.

"Shall we go?" He suggests, "No point staying anyway, it's last lesson." 

"I was going to walk home with PJ," I say. I know he'd be mad if I just left, but I kind of want to go with Freddy. 

"Fuck PJ!" PJ wishes. "Come on Dan, it'll be fun." I don't take anymore convincing, the bitterness and spite inside of me fueling me to get up and follow him over the fence. I know it's wrong, but that isn't really enough to stop me. At this point, I'm not really sure what is.

-

It's four o clock when I finally get home. Me and Freddy ended up roaming around for a bit, just talking. He's actually really nice, and we found we have a lot in common - we like the same music and games and books. It's good to talk to someone new, even if it is only because I'm trying to piss someone else off.

My parents are still at work, so I spend some time doing homework in peace and trawling through my old phone again. I'm still making my way through those old texts - there's a lot.

After an hour, I decide to give it a rest and go to get some food. I'm in the middle of making my dinner when someone knocks at the door. I automatically assume that it's PJ, so you can imagine my surprise when I fling open the door to see Connor stood there, his eyes blotchy and red.

"What are you doing here?" I ask. 

"Can I come in?" He replies, blatantly ignoring my actual question. Ever a polite prick, I stand aside and open the door wider for him to step inside. He kicks his shoes off and stands awkwardly for a minute. I shut the door, waiting for him to break the silence. He doesn't.

"What do you want?" I repeat, rephrasing my question slightly. Connor looks at me, raising one eyebrow.

"Like you don't know," He says, shaking his head. I frown. I mean, he's right - obviously I know. I just want to hear him ask. I hadn't exactly planned for this scenario, so I'm not sure how it's going to go down. Is he going to confront me about Freddy or just the other day?

"I don't," I snap. I walk into the living room and he follows me in, arms folded as he sits down on the couch.

"You've been ignoring me," He says, quietly, "Why?" I flop down next to him. 

"You kissed Hilda," I scoff, "Why would I-"

"I what?" He spits back, clearly infuriated by the accusation. I don't know why he's trying to act innocent. 

"You kissed her," I say, "I mean, I know we were never official b-"

"I did not," He protests, grabbing my arm. I look at him, searching for sincerity and finding no proof of anything but. "I'm gay, Dan! Why would I kiss Hilda? She's my friend for fucks sake-"

"I saw you hugging her in the hall today too," I say, standing by my argument. He's lying - he has to be. PJ said that...

PJ said. 

PJ.

PJ who's liked me for who knows how long, told me that the boy I like was getting off with someone else. And I didn't even question it.

Maybe I'm the idiot.

"Because she saw I was upset," Connor explains, "I was upset because you haven't spoken to me all weekend, and you didn't reply to my text yesterday either. I waited for you all day." I almost feel guilty.

Almost.

"PJ wouldn't lie to me," I shrug, "He said that you were kissing-"

"Of course it was PJ that told you that," Connor snaps, "PJ would tell you anything if he thought it would get you away from me!" 

I can't deny it. 

Everything makes sense. Of course it would be something he'd like about. Of fucking course. That was why he kissed me - he knew I would kiss back just to infuriate Connor. It's why he was so pissed off this morning when I said I had another idea. 

PJ only said it to split us up.

And it almost worked.

Almost.

"Oh," I say, after a good few seconds of painful silence. Connor sighs, and pulls me into a hug.

I feel like a fucking idiot. I was going to befriend his 'ex' and ignore him for fuck knows how long just to get him back for something he never even did. He went the entire watching me with Freddy for no fucking reason at all. I'm a fucking prick. 

But PJ is worse.

It's at that point I realize I've started to cry - sobbing into Connor's shoulders like a fucking child. I mean, I can't make myself look much worse, so what does it matter? He must be so pissed off with me, yet he still made the trip over to my house so he could try and fix everything.

"I can't believe PJ," I sob, feeling incredibly betrayed. Why would he do something like that? I mean, I know why, but why does he think that's okay? Did he really believe we wouldn't figure it out? Maybe he just didn't think that far into it. "I'm so sorry, Con." 

"Forget it," He sighs, pulling out of the hug but leaving his arms draped around me, "Just promise me that next time PJ tells you something about me, make sure it isn't bullshit before you go ignoring me all weekend." 

"I promise," I whisper, looking at him. He's not perfect, but at least he didn't lie to me like PJ did. "What are we going to do about PJ?" We can't exactly confront him at school - other people can't find out about this. But I don't want to let him get away with it either, he needs to know that we've discovered his bullshit. 

"Let me deal with him," Connor says, "Can we just go back to normal now, please?" He laces his fingers through mine and I smile.

"What is our normal?" I ask. Connor shrugs, pulling a confused face. I giggle and we both lean in, our lips brushing together again. I almost hate how much I've missed him. 

If it feels this good to be kissing Connor again after only forty eight hours, I can't imagine how it will feel with Phil.

Not that I'm thinking about that.

I shouldn't. Not right now, anyway. I try to push it to the back of my mind, focusing on Connors' lips gentle movements and the way his hands are trailing up and down my sides lightly. I press into the kiss harder and he lets out a downright filthy grunt, his hands tightening around me as I fall back onto the couch.

He's laying on top of me and we're deep into making out - legs tangled, arms everywhere and lips completely fixed on each other. If I wasn't so distracted, I'd definitely be thinking about how fucking hot it all is.

And if I didn't hear the door just go, I'd definitely be continuing with the activity.

"Connor," I gasp, as I hear it fling open. The sound alone is enough to practically cause a heart attack. But Connor just leans back in. I push him off, wasting no time.

I'm quick to react, pulling my hands from under his shirt and ripping away from him as he scrambles to sit up right - the realization hitting him. We were so quick to react.

But not quick enough.

I feel my heart drop.

"Daniel," My mum whispers, her eyes widening at the sight of us. Even if she didn't see us kissing like that, even if she didn't hear the noises we kept making, or witness where our hands were roaming, it was still enough to tell her exactly what had been going on. I know what we must look like - our legs still wrapped up in each other and our hair pushed out of place in every direction, and our lips that are no doubt bright red, wet and sore.

She's ignorant, but she's not an idiot. It's self explanatory. 

"Shit," I gasp. Connor stands up, untangling himself from me with grace and ease. I remain slouched down on the couch, fearing that if I do stand my legs will give way. They feel like fucking jelly.

"I should go," Connor says, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. I want to yell at him to stay - how can he leave me like that? I'm about to be fucking murdered. 

I say nothing though, watching him walk out. My Mum doesn't protest either, her eyes not even glancing over him. No, those are fixed on me, burning holes inside of me. 

I want to say something - apologize or yell or beg her not to say anything to Dad. I'd say anything right now, but I don't think it would be enough, and even if it was, the lump in my throat is far too big for any words to get past.

I look at her, trying to return the glare she's giving me, but I don't have it in me.

"I'm sorry," I croak, eventually. She shakes her head. "I didn't-"

"We've had this conversation before," She whispers, "I'm not having it again. Not now." 

And with that, she turns and leaves again. I don't know where she's going, but that isn't exactly the burning question on my mind. Not even close. What's really cutting into me, is what she just fucking said.

Because through all of this bullshit, the entire time, she fucking _knew._


	15. What Now?

I was thirteen when I realized I liked boys. 

I remember the exact moment - staring at the posters on my wall when I was touching myself, thinking about all the men on that wall, thinking about them naked. It felt fine at the time, in that moment. It was only after, fucked out and laid back on my bed that I realized exactly what those thoughts meant. 

I thought I could hide it. I was wrong.

When I was fifteen, I realized I really didn't like girls at all. I had never planned on telling anyone about that. I'm really hoping I didn't.

My mum hasn't spoken to me all night. I got my dinner, went upstairs and I haven't been down since. I know she came home about half an hour after she drove off. My dad came home at his usual time, and I have no idea if she's told him. I can't imagine his reaction. He probably already knows. They both knew all along, that I liked boys. I can't remember coming out to them, and they didn't even bother to tell me that I had.

Another thing I can add to the list.

I wonder if they know even more than that. They probably knew about Phil - why else would I have told them? Maybe I didn't tell them that time either - just a badly timed unfortunate incident. 

I have no idea what to think, about any of it, but I'm not willing to go down and ask for answers.

Instead, I sit on my laptop, talking to Marcus for a change. He's the only person I think I can talk to about this. Chris hasn't spoke to me since I demanded answers about Phil, and Cat isn't online anyway.

**Marcus: That's awful, are they mad at you?**

**Dan: I have no idea. My mum just said 'we've had this conversation before and I'm not having it again' then she drove off. She got back but she hasn't talked to me.**

**M: Did your friend leave?**

**D: Yep, shot off as soon she walked in. I'd have done the same though, so I can't blame him...**

**M: Maybe you should go and talk to your parents. I have no idea what they knew before, just that they weren't happy about it. They only found out about a month before the accident - so did Phil's soo....**

**D: Oh, right. Thanks Marcus, I didn't know that?**

Honestly, that leaves me with more questions. It seems odd, but maybe there's no correlation. And they obviously didn't care enough to stop me and Phil from seeing each other...

Unless of course they did, which would explain why me and Phil were driving off together.

But no.

Because I wouldn't have done that. I was sixteen, I'd only just finished my exams. We wouldn't have... 

Would we?

Nothing should surprise me now, really.

Me and Marcus continue talking, but we veer the conversation to more positive things, which I'm glad off. 

It's half eleven when I hear my parents come upstairs. I slam my laptop lid down and lay back on my bed, though it's a half-hearted effort to pretend to sleep. They both know I never sleep this early. 

When I hear the bedroom door creak open, I open my eyes. It's my mum. She stands for a minute, staring at me before speaking, "I thought it was a phase." 

"You thought wrong," I retort, rolling my eyes. I sit up, facing her. She looks pale, stressed even. "Did you tell dad?" 

"No," She says, "He didn't like it last time. We- He hoped that you'd forget about the gay thing. I don't want to upset him again, we can keep this between us for now." I want to get angry and yell and scream and punch something. But I don't. I don't even feel angry, just sad. Pure and simple harrowing sadness.

They're never going to accept me, are they? I mean, my dad is clearly in denial about it still, and my mum is hardly being the most loving right now. I want someone to hold me and tell they don't care and that they'll love me anyway. I want a parent that will shrug it off and remind me that it doesn't fucking change a thing and parents that will get excited when they meet my boyfriends, not repulsed. 

I'll never fucking have that. I see that now, and it breaks my heart a little.

"We can't lie forever," I say, my voice flat and emotionless, "I'd rather he tell me he hates me for who I am than pretend I'm someone I'm not just to keep him happy-"

"He won't hate you," Mum gasps, "We could never-"

"No," I snap, "You don't get it? There's no grey area with this stuff, mum. You're either perfectly happy and fine with it, or you're homophobic - and I don't want those people in my life. I don't care if you're my parents, if you can't love me knowing I'm gay then I don't want you're love at all. You can fuck off-"

"Don't speak to me like that Dan," She hisses, losing any understanding that was previously in her tone. "I love you, don't you ever forget that, but we don't love your lifestyle choice - and how can you blame us? It's not what we wanted for you-" I cringe at the word choice, like I'd have wanted this? 

"It's not exactly my dream either," I snark, although that's not strictly true. Maybe once upon a time I would've traded it, but I think I'm alright with it now. I don't really care that things will be different for me - because they will be - let's not front about that. "But if you think this was my choice, then you're an idiot. I didn't choose to be a disappointment to my family! I can't help it-"

"Keep your voice down," She says, shutting my door behind her, "Do you want the whole street to know?" Maybe. 

Why the fuck not? Maybe it's just the sadness or the fear having a funny effect on me, but right now I feel fucking liberated. Maybe I should tell everyone. Maybe.

Or maybe that's a really bad idea. I'll see. 

"You'd hate that, wouldn't you?" I reply, almost smirking. 

"This isn't about me," She sighs, and she's right. This really isn't about her, it's about me. It's about her issue with me - dad's issue with me. It's about how embarrassed they are about me. It's about how they fucking lied to me - how they neglected telling me that I'd done something so fucking huge last year!

"What's it about then?" I quiz, "What is this to you? Why does it even matter?" Now I can feel it - the anger. I knew it would boil up eventually. Most conversations with my parents result in that.

"That's not..." Her voice trails off and she breaks eye contact - looking down at my floor instead. 

"Why didn't you tell me that I'd come out before?" I ask her, getting to the real issue here. I can deal with her homophobia - I don't really have a choice, and it's something I'm kind of used to by now. What I really can't cope with is her bullshit - I despise being lied to.

"I hoped you'd forget," She says. That seems honest enough for me. "I didn't think you'd handle it well either, you know, if I just slipped 'by the way, we know you're gay' into conversation. It's not something you exactly liked talking about with us." 

"Probably has something to do with your homophobic tendencies," I tell her. She sighs again and sits down on the end of my bed. I don't bother telling her to move.

"I'm not homophobic," She counters, but not exactly defensively. She knows what she says is ignorant. "Not on purpose, anyway." 

"Doesn't matter," I scoff, "You don't get it and you don't even try to. You didn't even bother telling me that I'd come out to you - that's a big deal!" It would've changed a hell of a lot. Maybe I'd have even bothered to tell them about Connor - even if it was just to piss them off.

"I'm sorry," She says, and I swear, that's the first time I've ever heard her apologize. 

"You knew about Phil," I whisper. She nods. 

"How do you remember?" She asks, looking at me with pure confusion. 

"I told you," I huff, "It's my dreams. I replay things in my head-"

"I didn't believe you," Mum gasps. She shakes her head, staring at the floor and then back to me. "I didn't want to." 

"You didn't want me to remember him," I realize, thinking out loud. I kind of knew that already, but at least now I know why, kind of. "But I do, you know? I remember him so well..." So much so, I even miss him. I miss the way he talked about things with such passion and wonder, and the way his laugh sounded, and the way he looked at me like I was made of gold, and the way he felt against me. I miss him so much.

And I can't tell anyone that. And I certainly can't tell him that, because he isn't here.

"Do you know what happened to him?" I ask. She opens her mouth to speak, but I cut in before she can start. "Tell me the truth this time. Please." 

"Daniel..." Her voice trails off again.

"I'll find out one way or another," I snap, "If you lie to me, I'll find out-"

"I can't lie to you," Mum interrupts, "I don't know what happened to him. He was in a bad way. His parents were really upset, they blamed you. They wouldn't talk to us about him, and you didn't even remember who he was. I didn't want to...stress you out. Not then."

"Oh," I mumble. I trust that. I believe her. Still, it doesn't help me out very much. I knew he was hurt pretty badly already. I want to know where he is now though. I need to talk to him. Now, more than ever.

"So, was that Connor or Clarkson?" Mum asks, referring to who she caught me with earlier. I snort. 

"It was Connor," I reply, not bothering to correct her on Clarkys' name. She nods, as if she'd guessed. I can feel myself blushing. 

"How long has that been going on for?" She asks. I shrug. She doesn't exactly have a right to be surprised about it - I had no idea that she even knew I was into boys, so I was hardly going to tell her, was I?

"A while," I say, actually unsure. 

"So you didn't plan on telling us this time?" 

"Did I tell you last time?" I scoff, surprised. I didn't realize that's how she found out. I wonder what made me tell them?

"Yes," She explains, "You and Phil were at home and you just...you just introduced him as your boyfriend." Oh.

"Weird," I say, "I wonder what made me do that." 

"I question that too," Mum says, but she's smiling softly at me. I don't think she has a huge problem with it. I think maybe she's just...stupid?

She doesn't get it. That's all. It could be worse - she could be like my dad. I don't want to think about how he will have taken that.

"So do you care?" I ask, "Are you going to give me a lecture about how this ruins everything? Or try to tell me this is just a phase?" I'm shocked that wasn't the first thing she approached actually, this conversation has been a lot more...open, than I imagined. I don't know if that's the right word, but it's not really the wrong word either. My mum has surprised me, is all.

"We tried that last time," She huffs, shaking her head at me, "It didn't work then. You just got angrier. The week before the crash you...I mean, you'd barely said two words. You didn't even come home most nights." I wonder where I went, but I don't bother asking. I hope some of it comes back to me though, it would be interesting to see the full perspective. What lead up to all of that? 

The closest thing to the crash I remember was the time Phil told us about Oxford, according to Cat anyway. Maybe that had something to do with it. It seems likely, and it's the only answer I have.

"That doesn't mean I'm not going to sanction you," Mum continues, ruining any positive feelings I had towards her just then. 

"For being gay?" I spit, a familiar anger returning.

"No," She says, defensively, "For bringing a boy here and doing... _that_...on the sofa! You're too young-"

"To kiss someone?" I quiz, knowing that it's not the only thing bothering her. Had it been a girl - Mack or Dana - she'd be fine with it. She's acting like it's all alright. She knows she can't stop me being gay, but it doesn't mean she won't make me feel shitty about it. 

"You need to focus on school," Mum explains, justifying her bullshit with more bullshit, "That's why you're here. I've been thinking, I need to talk to Connor's parents, tell them-"

"No fucking way-" I spit, standing up. She rises too, folding her arms and glaring at me.

"You don't tell me what to do," She snarls, "If it were the other way around, I'd want to know, alright? His parents need to know, so that they can talk to him, sanc-"

"It's not your place," I protest, desperate. I know not all religious people are homophobic, but considering Connor's intense fear of his parents finding out, I'm going to assume that they fall into the group of religious people that are. Even if they're not, he's going to be fucking furious - rightly so. He should get to come out when he chooses. "You do this and I will never forgive you for it-"

"They need to know that their son is messing around with mine," She says, "I don't care if it's going to upset him, or you. It's my responsibility to tell them if I see him doing something bad-" So she does think it's bad.

Of course she does.

She doesn't understand. She never will. My mum might pretend to be all accepting and loving, but it doesn't mean she's proud of me, or happy that I'm not the son she wanted. She'll always be this way. 

"They'll be so mad," I say, feeling my breath hitch at the thought. I don't know it for sure, but the thought of Connor getting into trouble because of me makes me feel sick. He doesn't deserve this.

"They can react however they choose," She says, "I can't tell them how to parent him. Hell, I don't know any better anyway." 

It's in that moment that I realize. 

My mum isn't doing this so that his parents will know, or out of the good of her heart - not that there's any good in that. 

My mum is going to tell them in the hope that they'll do to Connor what my parents don't have the balls to do to me. She wants them to split us up. She wants them to play bad cop so that I don't take it out on her.

She's a fucking idiot. 

I'm going to despise her either way.

-

I wake up the next morning laying on a damp pillow. My conversation with mum ended shortly after she told me that she'd be informing Connor's parents.

I should warn him - tell him what she's going to do. Maybe he can tell them first then. It might be better coming from him. 

I don't though. I can't face him. Or anyone. 

I feel sick to my stomach just thinking about school right now. I'll have to deal with PJ, who lied to me. Freddy, who thinks we're friends now. Connor, who'll be fuming with PJ and probably clueless about the storm coming his way - if my mum hasn't already contacted his. 

She made me give her his parents number a while ago, just to double check I was okay to sleep at his house. I regret that now. She might have already called them. I dread to think.

I check my phone. I have an hour to get ready, but I don't bother. Instead, I text PJ to tell him that I'm not coming to school and that I'm sick. I go downstairs to face mum and dad then. They'll let me have a day off if I spin a good enough excuse, and considering the events of last night, I think mum will be a bit more lenient. She doesn't want me to hate her, and I'll always exploit that, even though it's much too late for me to ever like her now.

She's lied too many times. Sometimes, I think she causes more harm than good for me. Now she's doing this, and I'm almost certain that's true.

"I don't feel well," I say to them, sitting down around the breakfast table. 

"You don't look too well lad," Dad says, looking at me through squinted eyes. I try not to take offence, considering I'm actually feeling alright (if you ignore the despair and fear). Maybe it's just because I'm tired. I didn't get much sleep, and the flashback I had was a boring one of me and Cat playing Monopoly. Hardly the most thrilling thing to remember - though she did throw the board up half way through.

"What is it, love?" Mum asks. I can't stand her talking to me all sweet like that, especially when she knows exactly what she's doing to me.

"I feel sick," I say, which isn't actually a complete lie. I do feel kind of queasy, but it's just the stress really - I'm not ill.

"I could ring in for you before I go to work," Mum suggests, smiling at me. I glare back, nodding slowly.

"I'm going back to bed then," I sigh, not bothering to thank her. 

"Let me know how you're feeling later," She calls as I leave the room. I make a mental note to not do that. She should know exactly how I'm feeling right now, I think most people would feel just as angry and afraid as me. This could get Connor into serious trouble, and that would be partly my fault. 

I go to text Connor. I need to. If I don't, the guilt is probably going to eat away at me. He needs to be warned, because if he doesn't already know - he might be in a hell of a lot of trouble. I'm about to open my contacts when my phone starts to ring in my hand. 

It's Connor.

"Dan?" He says, as soon as I've picked up. He's talking quietly, but quickly as if there's an urgency in his tone. Oh fuck - maybe they know.

"Con," I reply, "I was just going to text-"

"I'm sorry for pissing off last night," He cuts in, "I shouldn't have left like that. I should have text but I just didn't know if-" He sounds so apologetic, but none of this is his fault - not really.

"It's fine," I tell him, "I'd have probably done the same. Listen, I need to talk to you-"

"PJ just told me that you're sick," He cuts in again, "I was dying to see you today Dan, you need to tell me everything! Are you really sick or is just like-"

"My mum's going to call your parents," I spit. The revelation shocks him into silence. I hear him gulp. "She's going to tell them everything. I tried to stop her, baby, I did. She just wouldn't listen." He isn't talking, so I don't stop. "I think it's bullshit. She tried to act like she was okay with it all, but she isn't. I think she's hoping your parents will stop us from seeing each other or something. My mum doesn't have the balls to do that herself-"

"Dan," He croaks, "My parents can't know-"

"I fucking figured," I scoff, thinking of the whole religion thing. I shouldn't assume it's entirely because of that - maybe they're just pricks - but it's a safe bet.

"Fuck," He yells. I hear something thud in the background, as if he's just kicked something. "Dan, I'm going to be fucking slaughtered-"

"I'm so sorry," I say, and I can feel a lump forming in my throat. "I'm so fucking sorry-"

"Why aren't you coming today?" He asks, the panic still clear in his voice. I'm panicking for him. I don't know what this is going to mean for us.

"I feel sick," I lie. 

"Why aren't you really coming today?" He repeats, "Dan I need you now more than ever, I can't deal with PJ on my own! I'll lose my shit with him-"

"Don't go," I say, "Come to mine. I'll be alone all day, it'll be fine-"

"I can't skip!" He cries out, "They'd find out-"

"You can't exactly go to school either, Con." 

-

It doesn't take much more convincing. As soon as my parents leave for work, I text him and he sets off. 

He's here in ten minutes, banging on the door. I pull him inside and slam it shut behind him. We've barely spoken to the neighbors, so I don't know how nosy they are or if they'd even tell my parents if they saw something suspicious, but it's better to be safe than sorry. Not that I could get much more sorry.

Connor wraps his arms around me, burying his head in my neck. I kiss the side of his head, rocking back and forth as he sobs into my shoulder. 

"They'll hate me," He cries, squeezing tighter. I don't respond. What can I say to that? 'Everything will be okay' doesn't seem to fit this time, it would be an outright fucking lie. I can't lie to him - not about this. 

It takes him ten minutes to calm down, which is much quicker than it took me. I'm pretty sure I was still sobbing in my sleep last night. We go to my room and curl up on the bed, me on one end and him on the other.

"They're going to stop us from seeing each other," He says after a while. I almost laugh. Mum will be pleased to hear that. Instead of laughing, I feel myself beginning to cry. I look up to see that Connor hasn't stopped either, which makes me feel slightly better. At least we're not alone in this.

"Are they really against it?" I ask. Connor shrugs.

"In year nine they found uh," He almost smirks, almost, before continuing, "They found some really... _dirty_ searches on my internet history. I didn't think they knew my laptop passwords or anything, but I came home from school and they were just sat there, gawping at me like I was crazy." I can't imagine how humiliating that must be - at only fourteen too. Oh gosh. 

"They weren't having any of it," He continues, "They blocked the internet for a month. They made me come to church with them and forced me to talk to the pastor. He lectured me on sodomy. I cried, right there on the spot in church. Mum dragged me out and called me an embarrassing little faggot. My dad cried too, he said it was okay to be confused as long as I never acted on my feelings." He's full on sobbing now, and I crawl over so that I can pull him into a hug.

"I've never told anyone that," He sobs. I nod, but I stay silent, letting him finish his story. "I always thought I'd force myself to be with a girl but then there was..." He doesn't say his name. "...then you and I just can't-"

"Freddy," I say his name quietly, "It was Freddy, wasn't it?" There's a tense, icy silence. 

"I really liked him Dan," Connor whispers eventually, "He really liked me too." He lets out a laugh then, but it's thick and low because of the crying, and it almost blends in with the sobs he's unable to stop. 

"What happened?" I ask.

"We were seeing each other for five months," Connor explains, "We were both the same, you know - horrifically ashamed of ourselves and petrified of coming out. I haven't really changed. We were going to have sex. He told me that he loved me. Then Mack walked in that one time and...he wouldn't even acknowledge my existence the next day. He had always said that if someone found out he'd kill himself. I thought he was being over dramatic, but he wasn't that far off. He killed me, Dan. I cried for six fucking weeks, and he didn't bat a fucking eyelid and-" He can't talk anymore, letting out loud wails instead. I pull him closer to me, letting his head rest on my heaving chest. I'm crying too. I can't help it.

"I'm sorry," I cry, because it's all I can say. I am sorry. I'm sorry that Freddy broke his heart. I'm sorry that his parents will lose their shit. I'm sorry that my mum caught us and ruined it all. I'm sorry that I got with PJ. I'm sorry that Freddy is ashamed to the point of which he can't even acknowledge Connor anymore. I'm sorry that Connor isn't happy. I'm sorry that we'll never escape this fucking tragic homophobic world.

Most of all, I'm sorry that I can't do anything to help him.

-

He leaved at four, ready to face his parents. He calmed down once we'd talk about Freddy.

I told him about Phil.

He cried for me.

He decided he needed to face his parents. He cried more. I held him. We made out.

Then he left.

I'm not sure what's going to happen now. Where do we go from here? It's bullshit, really. All of it.

I curl up on a ball in my bed, wondering how on earth this is going to ever be okay again, until I realize something that I should have a long time ago:

Maybe it just won't.

And there's nothing I can do about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My schedule is a bit messed up currently, but I'm working on it. I'd expect 1-3 updates a week, so just keep checking back and hoping that I've got my shit together! I really hope you're enjoying this, feedback is always always appreciated! Thanks for reading!


	16. A Series of Bad Ideas

_He's looking at me like I'm made of gold, his eyes glazed with pure admiration and want. His lips are parted slightly and he's tracing his fingers up and down my bare back._

_"I mean it," I say, "I want to do this." I don't take my eyes off of him, trying to show just how serious I am._

_"I don't know," Phil mumbles, breaking the eye contact we've kept up for so long to bury his head into his sheets, before looking back up at me, his hand moving to my face. "I want to do it too, Danny, believe me baby. It's just such a big deal-"_

_"We need this Phil," I cut in. It doesn't really counter his point very well. It is an incredibly big deal, but I'm right too - we do need to do this. More than anything._

_"It feels like that now," He agrees. He licks his bottom lip before continuing, "But it might not forever. We have no idea, Dan."_

_He's right. He's too right._

_We can't do this, not yet anyway. I groan into the pillow, his hand sliding into my hair instead. I shuffle closer to him and his arms close around me again, restoring the warm bubbly sensation in my stomach. I should be used to it by now, but I don't think I ever will be. I'll miss it when he goes away._

_If he goes away._

_"We just need to think it through," I mutter, but even I know that there's a lot more to it than that._

_"I'm so done thinking," Phil mumbles. I giggle and he plants a kiss against my neck, gently at first. I let out a high, content sigh and he repeats it, a little rougher, going up and down and around my neck and collar bones as I let out little whines. He knows how much I like it, even though I'd never in a million years admit to that._

_"Again?" I ask when his hand trails down my back, stopping at the top of my boxer shorts. I smile into his touch, pushing into it more._

_"Again," He confirms, his breath tickling my neck and his hands going back down to where they were not even an hour ago. "That's what you want, isn't it?"_

_"Always."_

_-_

_It only takes ten minutes for us to finish, breathless and sweating all over again. My stomach in knots and my brain a mess of uncollected and scattered thoughts as I try to come down from the high that he manages to leave me on every single time. I'm fucked out, to put it simply._

_"You're too easy," He says, chuckling. I feel the huff of his amused breath on the back of my neck and his hands snake back around my waist._

_"I can't help it," I reply, feeling myself blush. I'd probably be ashamed of the state he leaves me in if it didn't feel so fucking amazing. Phil simply laughs._

_"I love you," He says. Warmth pools into my stomach._

_"Love you too," I whisper, placing my hands on top of his._

_We're laid like that for five minutes in a pure, blissful silence._

_The annoying chime of my mobile ruins it and we're forced out of our happy bubble. Phil hands me the phone. I answer without glancing at the caller ID, so it's a bit unsettling to hear Cat rambling down the phone._

_"I made a huge mistake," She's sobbing, "He won't even look at me Dan! Chris is fucking fuming about Phil and he won't talk and Marcus just-"_

_"What?" I cut in, sitting up. Phil looks at me, concern written across his face. "Cat, is everything okay?"_

_"Nothing is okay," She spits, "I fucked it all up! I should have listened to you! Now Phil won't talk to me and Chris is too upset to even...I don't know. Marcus despises me and it's all gone wrong-"_

_"There's no fucking wonder," I scoff, letting my anger remain. I can't pity her. Believe me, I want to, but too much has happened. She kept doing it - again and again - shitting on chance after chance. I never wanted to give up on her, but there was nothing I could do. She was being awful, and now she's dealing with the consequences. Why should I make it easier? She wouldn't have done the same for me._

_I look at Phil, he's staring back with those big soft eyes. I know what he'd tell me, I know what he'd want me to do. He'd tell me to be the bigger person - to listen to her and try to understand. He's like that, Phil, a much better person than I ever could be. He doesn't like letting people hurt._

_"I know," Cat sobs, "I know I fucked up! I did...I just don't know what to do! My mum still thinks I'm disgusting and Marcus- Marcus cried and hung up when I tried to ring. I don't know what to do this time, Dan-"_

_"Calm down for a start," I huff, deciding to be at least a little bit understanding. She fucked up, that's all on her, but if I let her suffer on her own? That's all on me._

_Twelve years of friendship can't end because she was being selfish and cruel and I was being ignorant and inconsiderate._

_We've hardly got the most positive relationship in the world, hell, it's pretty toxic. But it's fucking real, and it fucking matters. Cat matters. Always; it doesn't matter how angry she makes me. It can't, because Lord knows this friendship would've dissolved a long time ago if I'd have cut her off every time she did wrong._

_"I can't," She croaks, but the loud sobbing noises seem to be slowing._

_"You need to start by apologizing to everyone," I tell her. It's not wrong. Marcus is heart broken. Chris is fuming. Cassie is smug because apparently 'she knew it all along'. Joe just feels guilty for letting her get so..._

_I can't even find a word to fit. So many words do._

_"They won't listen," She says, "I've tried! Marcus won't even-" She lets out a sob, "I didn't mean for it to-"_

_"You didn't mean to get caught," I correct her before she's even finished the sentence. There will never be an excuse for what she did to him. Cheating is almost unforgivable, at least by my standards. "Don't front. Be honest with them, Cat. You're in deep enough shit as it is, don't make this worse for yourself."_

_"How can it get any worse?" She asks, but I think it's rhetorical. "They want me dead, Dan."_

_"That's not true," I sigh, though with the way Chris spoke to her, it's no mystery why she thinks that. "We're all angry, and we have a right to be. You need to understand that. This isn't some unjust over reaction, this is us dealing with everything, and you need to deal with it too."_

_"I'm trying my best," She mumbles, but part of me doesn't believe her. Cat just wants everything to be okay again. Me? I don't think it ever will be. Between me and her, things can probably be alright again pretty soon, but I'd bet my hat that Marcus is done with her now. Chris will come around eventually, but it could be a while. Phil too, he's slowly coming to peace with everything she's done._

_"Try harder," I grunt, "I have to go, Cat. I'm busy, but if you want to ring me back later-" She hangs up._

_"I think we need to do it, Danny," Phil says, looking up at me with glassy eyes. He could probably hear what she was saying. "Before it all gets too bad."_

_"It can't get worse," I say, shrugging. I put my phone back on the bedside table. "I'm willing to though, if you are. You know that."_

-

I wake up to the sound of my alarm.

I'm confused at first, but I write the dream down and pray that one day, I'll be able to ask Phil about it. I blush as I recall it, thinking about the things we did and the way he made me feel. Now, remembering, I simply feel empty, but a tiny ghost of the feeling lingers as a reminder of where I once was - where I belong.

We said we loved each other. 

A lump forms in my throat at the memory. It can't have been like that, can it? 

But if it was... 

Where is he now? Because from what I know about it, people don't just ignore and block out those that they're in love with for months on end without a fucking good reason. 

I shut the journal and put it back, rubbing my eyes. I wish I had more context. I wish I wasn't so afraid of asking Chris or Marcus or Cat, but from the sound of it all - it seemed so dark. I don't want to bring up bad memories for them, but however bad they are, they are still memories that I need.

Or at the very least they're stories I need to hear.

-

Connor never called me last night. I assume his parents took it badly, seeing as mum informed me that she called his mother at lunch time.

I waited up until three am, hoping for him to call me up and tell me what they'd said. I didn't want to ring him in case his parents had taken his phone and would answer it. They're not people I'm eager to engage in conversation with after everything they've heard about me.

I'll just have to ask him at school - maybe skip again.

PJ comes round for me. We walk to school and I don't say a word to him. He keeps saying things, but I just grunt or nod in response, not offering any actual words. I'm too angry. I feel like snapping at him, but me and Connor haven't talked about how to handle him yet. 

He tried to ruin us, and that's not something I can just let slip or forget about. Much like what my mum has just done. 

They need to learn that I won't be messed with like that. I'm just trying to fucking live - I don't need their bullshit messing things I love up for me.

"You're quiet this morning," Clarky says, prodding me gently. I shrug.

"Tired," I say. PJ frowns at me. "Where's Connor?" I ask, looking around. It's still early, but I'm so eager to see him. I need to know what happened last night.

"I don't know," Mack says, "Hasn't replied to any of my texts last night - he wasn't on Xbox either." 

"Maybe he was on PC," PJ suggests. I blank him. He knows Connor doesn't like using PC. It's bullshit, but I suppose I know that better than any of them. I spent the whole time last night worried sick about him. 

"Nope," Mack says, dismissing the theory immediately, "Maybe he's still sick. What was up with you yesterday Dan?"

"Sickness," I lie, "Must have been one of those weird twenty four hour bug things." 

"You both got it at the same time?" Mack snorts, "He must have it worse."

"It's Connor," Clarky scoffs, "He'll be wagging an extra day." If I didn't know any better, I'd probably believe that, and everyone else seems to when he hasn't shown up by first period.

I feel sick with worry. Were they really harsh? I can imagine him now, crying again as he's getting yelled at for doing absolutely nothing wrong. It's not right. I feel like crying for him - nobody deserves to go through that. To be rejected or bullied by your own family? It's beyond cruel, you have to be a different kind of twisted to turn away your own family for something so unimportant.

"Daniel?" Mrs Carter snaps. I look up, jumping out of my daydreaming. Oh fuck. "Can you tell me what the answer is?" I gulp, shaking my head. I wasn't listening, but I have valid reason for that. It's a shame I can't exactly explain that to her - not that she'd even understand. 

"No Miss," I mumble, "Sorry." She shakes her head at me, a familiar look of disgust on her face as her eyes drill into me as if to say 'how fucking dare you?'.

"Why is that?" She asks, although everyone, including her, already knows why that is. 

"Because I wasn't listening," I say, stating the obvious. 

"And do you think that's acceptable?" She quizzes, folding her arms across her chest, "Do you really think that you don't need to know this?" I look to the white board to see that the words 'properties of giant metallic structures' are scrawled across in messy black pen. 

"Yeah," I shrug, deciding that I really don't give a fuck about chemistry right now. "Giant metallic structures aren't really a significant part of my daily life, Miss." A few people snicker at that, the low laughter causing the teachers cheeks to darken. 

"But they might be a significant part of your exam, Daniel," She hisses, the laughter failing to really knock her confidence, "And you can't afford to fail that, can you?" 

"You've got me there," I gasp, sarcastically, "Failing chemistry would really destroy my future. I don't know how I'd live with out a GCSE in-"

"Don't use that tone with me Daniel," She yells, "I'm trying to teach a class here, if you don't care to learn, then you can go to Mr Jones and explain that to him." 

"Will he be any more understanding than you?" I ask, considering the option. Maybe I should leave this class. I have more important things to worry about than metallic structures and their bullshit properties, or whatever irrelevant bullshit it is we're learning about. 

"I wouldn't chance that," She spits, storming back to her desk, "Now listen, or get out." 

I don't bother going for the latter, but at the end of the lesson she calls me to her desk. I reluctantly walk over.

"I'm going to be late for history," I huff, leaning back against the wall. She frowns at me, waiting for the last few people to leave the class before actually saying anything.

"I think you owe me an apology," She begins, gathering up papers on her desk, "You shouldn't talk to members of staff like that, Daniel. You're lucky that I didn't send you out, most teachers would." That's true, most teachers here are proper pricks.

"Sorry," I say, with as much sincerity as I can muster.

"Thank you," She says, looking up at me with a pitiful smile, "Now, are you going to explain why you were being so rude today? It's not like you to act out." I appreciate her not screaming at me, to be honest that was what I'd expected when she made me stay behind, and a bollocking is the last thing I need right now.

"I just have stuff on my mind," I explain, "I was distracted and I'm tired and I just...I don't know. I'm sorry." 

"You're allowed to have bad days," Mrs Carter shrugs, "I have enough of them to know that, just try not to let it affect how you treat others, and if it's going to interfere with your school work, maybe it's best you resolved that issue before coming to school and distracting others with your attitude." I know she doesn't mean it to be harsh, but it does sound that way.

Regardless, she does have a point. I can't focus when I'm worried about Connor like this - but then again, I can hardly just turn up at his front door and talk to him, can I?

Can I...

"Yeah," I say, "You're right. Thanks Miss." She nods at me.

"Get to your next lesson," She instructs, "Tell them why you're late - if they don't believe you they can email me." I nod before leaving, grateful for that.

It's a shame I'm not doing as I'm told.

Instead of walking to history, I walk down the other hallway, leading to the front door. There's nobody on reception, and the hall monitors must be elsewhere because the place is pretty much deserted - there's nobody to see me when I storm out of the front door.

I've been to Connor's countless times, so my legs guide me to his house like clockwork, putting one foot in front of the other regardless of the nerves pooling around inside of my stomach. I know this isn't a good plan. Can it even be considered a plan? I mean, it's not like I have any idea what I'm going to say when I get there. What if his parents answer the door? They won't be pleased to see me.

But I still need to try. For Connor.

When I get there, I notice his bedroom light is on through the window. The family car is parked out front, so his parents must be home too. Oh fuck. I can't knock on the door and have them answer, that would be asking for trouble, but there's no other way unless-

Well, unless I climb through his window. 

It's a horrific idea, maybe one of the worst I've had, but that doesn't stop me from going over and trying. People do crazy things to get what they need. 

I never thought I'd be grateful for the porch at the front of the house, but when I'm attempting to climb up the side of it, I'm thanking all of the available God's for the thing. I have one foot perched awkwardly on the window ledge at the side of the porch, the other one pressing against the brick wall. My hands are wrapped around the drain pipe and I'm hoisting myself up, switching to grab onto the gutter around the edge of the porch roof instead. It feels weak, like it'll collapse if I put all of my weight on it. 

If this situation were to get any worse, that would certainly be how. 

I put pressure on my feet, forcing them further up the wall so that I can get my legs up as quickly as possible - the less time I spend hanging onto the gutter the better. I yank one leg over when I'm high enough, and the other is quick to follow. I lay there for a few seconds, panting. Who knew you needed so much strength to climb a wall not even two meters tall? 

I stay crouched and work my way over to the other side. Connor has left his curtains open, so I can see into his room. He's sat on his bed with his back to the window, but it looks like he's reading or something. I knock on the window and he jumps, spinning around. His face lights up when he see's me, but there's a hint of worry in his eyes that even I can't pretend to ignore. He's not stupid, he knows this is dangerous.

Connor walks over to the window anyway, opening it slowly before speaking, "For fucks sake, Dan, what are you doing?" 

"Pleased to see me?" I scoff, putting one hand on the window frame. He smiles weakly, nodding before taking my other hand. I slide my legs through the window and gently try to place them on the floor, doing my best not to make any abrupt noise. The last thing we need is for his parents to come running up and see us like this. 

Once I'm safely down, Connor pulls me into a hug, hard and desperate. I bury my head in his shoulder, feeling a lump form in my throat.

"I'm so sorry," I whisper as I pull away, sitting on the bed. He wipes his eyes quickly, as if he thinks I hadn't noticed how glassy they were, or the red blotches beneath them.

"They're so angry," He says, sitting beside me, "Mostly because I didn't tell them." That isn't exactly what I expected to hear, but it's better than what I did.

"Is that why you're in trouble?" I ask. He shrugs. 

"They don't care that I'm gay," He replies, which confuses me, but I let him continue. "They think it's alright, that it's part of Gods...plan for me...or something. They think it's just disgusting that I'm acting on it. Apparently I can be gay as long as I don't do anything gay, because that's a sin." I think back to the other day, when he told me about how his mother called him a faggot and they tried to get him to talk to a priest. It's not your typical homophobia, but it's not better nor worse.

"Pricks," I huff. He nods in agreement. "You can't ignore who you are." 

"They can't either," Connor says, "I mean, I think they really think I'll be able to do it, so they're definitely going to be upset when start walking all wavy-" We both laugh at that, and it feels nice, to be able to laugh despite how awful everything is.

"How did they not expect this though?" I ask, but I don't really think he knows either. Usually, if you catch a kid watching gay porn, you can put two and two together, who can really be stupid enough to believe that's just a phase? 

Other than Connor's parents, obviously.

"They just didn't want to," Connor mumbles, "They kept me off today, said I should do some reading up on it, reconsider my 'lifestyle choice' and have a break from my friends, you're a real bad influence, apparently." He picks up the book of the bed and hands it to me, smirking. I cringe as I realize that it's a Bible. 

"Horrific influence," I agree, "Obviously, you were never gay before you met me." He smirks. I remember Freddy, and raise my eyebrows.

"Why do we have to put up with this bullshit?" I think it's rhetorical, but I answer anyway.

"Because we can't make half the world change their mind," I sigh. It shouldn't be that way, not for anyone, but there's nothing we can do about it, is there? Not really. Some people won't change, not even for their own children, evidently. "And we certainly can't ignore it." 

"We haven't tried," He responds. He looks at me then, a look of fear mixed in with realization. He's got an idea. It takes me a minute to catch on what that is, and oh fuck, it's a bad one.

"I don't think we should," I say, my voice shaking at the mere thought. I'm not ashamed of who I am, and I don't want to hide it, but if me hiding it makes me less likely to get bullied and beat up, I'm very willing to do so. To come out to everyone right now would be...

Disastrous. 

"Why the fuck not?" Connor asks, frowning at me. He looks so passionate, like he really wants to do this, but I know it's a bad idea. He's just upset and angry at the world and that makes people act out. You can't make choices like this if you're not in your absolute best frame of mind. "Think about it Dan! No more bullshit! No more hiding around! It doesn't fucking matter what people think of us, because...well, because anybody who hates you for something you can't help doesn't fucking matter-"

"Connor-" I try to cut in, talk some sense into him, but he's off, rambling about it as if it's the best thing he's ever thought. I'm glad he feels so liberated, but that doesn't mean I want him to go through with this. It's not just about him, because I'm part of this too and I'm really not ready for people to start looking at me differently, which they all will regardless of their stance on the matter. 

"And it would be a huge smack in the face for PJ and Freddy, wouldn't it?" He laughs at the idea, but my face remains solid, locked in a sad, drooped frown. "We could just be ourselves Dan." 

"Everyone would hate us," I remind him, "There's a reason I try so hard to fit the mold, Con. I don't want to deal with what happens when we don't. I'm not ready for that, alright?" He pauses, before nodding.

"I don't think we were meant to fit the mold," He whispers, looking down at the Bible in my hands. "I know playing God is a sin, but you know what I say, Dan?" I look at him, forcing a soft smile. "To hell with his plan." 

-

I talk him out of telling everyone easily enough. He knows that would be dumb, deep down. The same fear he's felt his entire life, it's still there, and I doubt it will ever fully go away. You can't stop being afraid of other people's judgement, but you can learn how to deal with it - I don't think we're quite there just yet.

But we're working on it, and that's what matters.

"Do you miss him?" Connor asks. His head is in my lap, and I've been here for about an hour now. We haven't been disturbed yet, and I'm kind of hoping we won't be. His parents took his phone off of him, and they're unplugged the internet router so he can't get online either, though he reckons they'll send him to school tomorrow. We're talking quietly, about Phil. I'm still a little shy talking about him, but it feels good to finally be able to.

"All the time," I say, "Which is weird, because he feels almost just like a character from a movie, you know? I don't feel like I've met him, just that I know him, and I want him with me." Connor nods, pretending like he gets it. I know he couldn't, but he's trying at least. I can't knock him for that.

"What if he were here?" Connor asks, "I mean, what if he came back into your life? What would you do? Where would he stand?" 

"I don't know," I mumble. I doubt we could just jump back into a relationship, and even if we could, how do I know that's what I truly want? I have Connor now, things have changed. I still care about him, that hasn't changed, but I think we'd have to go through the process of getting to know each other all over again before we decided anything about our relationship. Honestly, I don't know where Phil would stand in my life right now. I want him back in it, but I'm not sure how he'd fit.

"Where would I stand?" Connor inquires, smiling slightly. I run one of my hands through his hair.

"Same place as now," I say. I couldn't let that change, could I? It would hardly be fair to just replace him like that. That's not even what I want, although I'm not exactly sure what I want. 

"I'm not stood right now," Connor says, giggling. I poke his face, smirking. 

"You're not funny," I sigh, but I'm still holding in a laugh. "And you know what I mean." He sits up and turns around to face me, still giggling at himself. He leans in and we start to kiss again, though it feels so wrong knowing his parents are just downstairs. I'd be slaughtered if they walked in right now, and I dread to think what they'd do to him. Me being here is bad enough as it is.

I'm not sure whether that has even occurred to Connor, and if it has, it certainly isn't enough to stop him. His hands are gripping my waist and his tongue is rolling against mine. I half wanted it to stop, I half wanted it to go on forever, me and Connor in our own world.

But of course, as fate would have it, our bubble is popped and we're forced back to reality when his mother shouts him down for lunch. It couldn't have gone any further anyway, to be fair.

He leaves me to sit on my own while he eats lunch downstairs with his parents, and I lay on the bed, flicking through the pages of the Bible. I'm not strictly religious myself, and my parents certainly aren't. I do believe in God, or something, but I can't quite figure out what. I'd like to think that there's a heaven too, but I'm not so sure about hell. If even one religion is 100% accurate and true, I'll probably end up in hell among the years worth of horrific psychopaths and murderers our world has seen, and that sounds far from appealing, and far from fair. 

I wish I could believe, but it's probably for the best that I don't. Who wants to live a life believing they belong in hell? 

I stop thinking about it, there's too much going on for me to go into a deep philosophical trance. 

When Connor comes back up, he seems all sad again. I suppose spending time with people who are pained by your existence can have that impact on you. 

"What are we going to do about PJ?" I ask him. He shrugs, which is hardly a helpful response. "I didn't speak to him, today. I think he's worked out that we know he lied." 

"Maybe just talk to him," Connor suggests, "I mean, not grill the fuck out of him, yell a little. He'll be sorry Dan." 

"What about you?" I ask, "What are you gonna do?" I'm only asking because I don't think I have the guts to that alone. PJ is one of my best friends, I don't want to just go off on him like that, at least not on my own.

"I'll stand back and watch," He says, "I mean, come on Dan, do you really think PJ gives a toss about me? He tried to take you from me, and he obviously didn't feel bad about it. I doubt he'd give a fuck about anything I had to say, but you-"

"I don't know Con," I say, nibbling my lip. Connor shrugs. I know I should want to hurt him, and part of me does, but I have other worries right now, and suddenly PJ getting jealous doesn't really matter as much as it did 24 hours ago. "I mean,I just want him to know that if he does that kind of thing, we're going to hate him before we hate each other." 

"I know," Connor mutters, "Maybe we don't have to rush in figuring something out. Maybe we just ignore him until we actually know what to do." I know he's right. PJ has to learn, he can't fuck with our heads like that, but maybe not right now, with everything else going on. 

-

I go home shortly after that, after a really close alarm in which his dad knocked on the door to see if Connor was alright. I got out the same way I came in, which was actually much harder than it initially seemed, but not too bad really. At least, I didn't end up with any major injuries, which is one bonus.

My house is still empty when I get home, so I make myself a late lunch (I felt too bad asking Connor to get me any food, though I was actually kind of hungry) and then go upstairs. I'll tell mum that I felt ill again and came home, and that if school didn't know I'd signed out then it was a clerical error. She'll probably believe me just to avoid an argument. 

When I log onto my Facebook after lunch, there's a message waiting from Chris. We haven't spoken since he ignored my question about Phil. When I click it, I realize that it's a group chat, and Cat is also in it. 

**Chris: Sorry for the other day Dan!!!!! Got good news now though.**

**Cat: Are you free this weekend?**

My heart leaps as the possibilities fill my head.

**Dan: Yeah, why?**

**Cat: Come down to Manchester on Saturday. We can pay for your train ticket, if you want. I just think it's finally time you learned the truth about what happened to you.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest chapter yet (go me) so I'm going to pretend like that's why it took so long to write, but let's be real that was 100% down to writers block and laziness. Anyway, I really hope you enjoyed this chapter, feedback is always welcome, I absolutely love reading your comments, they really make my day so that's real cool if you do wanna drop one??? Thank you for reading!!!


	17. For The Best

Connor didn't come back to school this week. He got his phone back though, and kept texting me to reassure me that it was all okay. I don't really believe him, but there isn't much I can do. Maybe I'll risk going to see him again this week, but if we got caught he'd be neck deep in shit, and I don't want to put him in that position. 

I didn't speak to PJ all week, and it's clearly bothering him. He's all quiet and sad, but it isn't my fault - he's the one who lied to me, why should I pity him? I don't want us to go on like this forever, but for now I can't bring myself to do much else, especially when Connor isn't there to help me justify everything. We walk to school in silence, eat lunch in silence and trail home in even more painfully awkward silence. Mackenzie and Clarky have figured out something isn't right, but they haven't said anything yet.

I don't wait around for them to either, instead going to spend my lunchtime today with Dana and Freddy. It's easier than having to spend an hour staring at PJ's face - he's constantly watery eyed and mopey. 

Plus, I've got better things to think about - for once I'm actually excited about something, and I don't want him to ruin my good mood. 

Tomorrow I'm finally meeting Cat and Chris again, and the last thing I need is to start getting all upset again over how PJ feels. Life would be a hell of a lot easier for us both if he just didn't like me, but it can't be that simple, can it? 

"Have you had a fall out?" Freddy asks, "Is that why you're with us? Is that why Connor isn't here?" They're grilling me, him and Dana, wanting to know why I'm suddenly wanting to be with them, but I'm not really giving them the answers they want. Connor would be pleased to know that Freddy has noticed his lack of attendance at school though.

"Not really," I shrug, not entirely lying. We haven't really had a fall out, I'm just really upset with PJ, and Connor is in deep shit. I'm fine with Mack and Clarky, though I know they'll be annoyed I've ditched them today. Hopefully they'll figure out that it's not because of them. "I'm just bored of them." Dana and Freddy laugh, though I don't understand why.

"No surprise there," Freddy says, "Fuck knows how they've put up with each other for five years." I know I'm the one who said they were boring, but I don't appreciate Freddy agreeing with that. Boring is the last word I'd use to describe my friends, it just seemed like an easy excuse. They weren't supposed to go along with it!

"You've put up with me for five years," Dana points out, nudging Freddy and smirking. Freddy returns the gesture, elbowing her in the boob. She winces but laughs along. 

"I have no choice," Freddy scoffs, "You know all my dirty little secrets." So do I, but he doesn't have to know that. I smirk to myself.

"You?" I sneer, "Dirty little secrets? Tell me more." I giggle and Freddy smiles, looking to Dana who mimes zipping up her lips, shaking her head. 

"I made a pinky promise in year nine Dan," She says, "The ultimate offense would be for me to break that." 

"I completely understand," I say, trying to retain some seriousness in my voice. The pinky promise was an important measure of trust back then, to be fair. It seems ridiculous now, laughable even, but it's sweet of her to actually keep it. I suppose a promise is a promise, pinky or not. And a secret is a secret, dirty or not.

"It's not even that bad," Freddy shrugs, "Actually, one of them is. Some of them are pretty funny." I mean, I'm sure some of them are, but I can definitely think of a few that nobody's going to laugh at. Or worse, everybody's going to laugh at.

"Don't tell me about them if you aren't going to tell me them," I groan.

"I don't have any secrets," Dana says, smiling, "I'm an open book." I raise my eyebrows at that, not believing her for a second. Everybody has secrets. 

People that deny that probably have the worst of all.

Still, I doubt Dana has anything too dark to hide. She's not exactly a dark person, and I've never heard a bad word said about her, so maybe there's not much she needs to hide. People obviously like her, which I can definitely understand. 

"Better to be open than closed," I say, but I'm not entirely sure that's true. I'm pretty closed off really, I can't think of anyone that really knows me aside from Cat. Did the other people there ever get to me properly? Phil probably did, you know, if he was so in love with me and everything. Other than that, I can't think of anyone who really knows me inside and out. My parents definitely don't, and PJ doesn't, not anymore. Maybe he did, when we were kids, for sure, but not now. I'm not that person anymore, which is probably for the better. 

Still, it's scary to think that I can spend so much time with these people, yet they still know so little about me. Maybe it isn't so weird though, I mean, you can't get to know everybody. Maybe I don't know these people as well as I thought either. I didn't know PJ was even into guys, I never ever thought he'd really be into me. I had no idea about Connor and Freddy having an actual relationship, and I still barely know anything about Mack and Clarky. 

I'm pretty sure I've learnt more about my friends from last year simply from flashbacks and odd, out of context dreams, than I have these people in four months. At least, I hope I learnt about them. 

There's only one way to know really, and I'll be finding out tomorrow.

-

The rest of the day flies. I go to bed early so that I can catch the early train tomorrow morning. I've told my parents that me and PJ are going into the center of the city to browse museums. Mum thought that was a wonderful idea, I doubt she'd think that if she knew the truth.

I have an odd flashback about being on a bus with Phil, we're just talking about nonsense, but it's sweet and we kept holding hands. I don't think it was near the end, but how can I know for certain?

I get up and get ready quicker than usual, eager to just get going. Mum makes me breakfast that I wolf down, then drives me to the bus station. I don't get the bus though, obviously. Instead I wonder across the street to the train station and buy a ticket for the next train to Manchester. Cat transferred some money to my account so that I could buy the ticket, from what's left I buy myself more food. 

I'm shaking with nerves the entire train ride, sat next to some silent, blank faced business woman who glares at me every time I shuffle in my seat or cough. We're about half way there when I feel myself dropping off, my eyelids feel heavy and the world begins to spin. I sit up straight and get a drink of water, hoping it will be enough to keep me awake. I really don't want to fall to sleep on the train, mostly because I can't risk having a flashback right now. What if it's really bad? I had a dream about me and Phil engaging in X-rated activities the other night, and I woke up sweating and solid. If that happens again, especially on a train, I think I'll die of embarrassment. 

It's the last thing I need right now - a fucking flashback.

But I can feel it happening. It's beyond my control. They come back when they want to come back, I suppose. The headache sets in with the dizziness and I feel my eye lids drooping again. A familiar feeling of helplessness looms over me and I know there's no getting out of it. I can't stay awake.

-

_"I'm fine," Marcus insists, forcing a smile. We all know he isn't, but we drop the subject and it's probably for the best. If he isn't okay, he doesn't need to keep thinking about that fact. Today is about making him feel better, making everything as okay as it can be when you're heartbroken._

_Chris puts the TV on and we battle at Mario Cart for a while, Chris destroying us all, as usual, but he's a little softer on Marcus. I manage to do alright, I consider myself good at it anyway, but Phil comes last in almost every race. I laugh at him, but he doesn't seem to mind. He's a good loser, unlike me and Chris who kick a fit whenever we come anything below third. Marcus is fine with anything, as long as he doesn't come twelfth - luckily Phil takes that position, so he has nothing to worry about._

_"You absolute bellend," Chris cries out when I let off a blue shell, causing him to lose his position in first. I over take, laughing._

_"Who the fuck left the banana?" Marcus groans, but he's giggling. It's nice to hear him happy for once. He's been so down for ages, and Cat won't even apologize. Still, we're not supposed to be thinking of that right now. It was the whole point in this day, we planned it to cheer Marcus up._

_"Me," Phil says, proudly, "I think, anyway. It might have been further back but- Oh sh- Balls!"_

_"Back in twelfth?" I scoff. Phil laughs._

_"I was doing so well too," He protests, "Tenth place!"_

_"Is that the best you've done all day?" Chris asks, laughing along. He's back in second, quickly catching up to me. It's getting intense._

_"Fifth, actually," Phil informs him, pride clear in his tone. I laugh, and Marcus is smiling too although his focus is entirely on the game, eager to catch up to me and Chris._

_"It doesn't count on Yoshi Falls," Chris says, "Eight year olds can win on Yoshi Falls, it's the easiest map-"_

_"It wasn't Yoshi Falls!" Phil cuts in, "It was the Mario Circuit-"_

_"Tosser!" Chris screams out when I let a banana drop._

_"Only because you got Bullet Bill," I say, "So you would've lost Phil, you just got lucky-"_

_"Technicalities Dan," He scoffs. Everyone laughs along, until I drop another banana and Chris screams out again._

_"This is a shit map," Marcus huffs when he gets hit by a shell. I smirk. "I'm choosing the next one, we haven't played Coconut Mall yet-"_

_"It's wank," Chris groans._

_I'm about to run over the finish line, holding down the 2 button as hard as I can, my eyes glued to the screen. Chris is right behind me. Marcus is in sixth place, and Phil has gone up to eleventh somehow. It's so close. I'm so close, about to drive over when the horrific, ear piercing scream rips out, "Chris! Open the door!" I turn, distracted, and Chris overtakes me before dropping his remote and turning to stare at the door._

_"Fuck," He spits, immediately recognizing the voice. Marcus turned too, and lost his place, as did Phil. But none of that seems to matter anymore. We're all just staring at the door, horrified._

_"Chris!" It's closer this time, as if she's run up the corridor, and only a second later she's banging on the door. "Chris please! For fucks sake, quick!"_

_"Shall I?" He whispers, looking to us for guidance. I look to Marcus, but he just looks sad again, and I can't tell what he's thinking. Phil just looks confused._

_"No," I conclude, biting my lip. This day isn't about Cat. She didn't need our help two weeks ago when we lectured her on this. She didn't want us around when we sided with Phil over his university choice (and he goes soon enough, anyway). She didn't want us around when Joe was there. So why now?_

_What's changed?_

_That question alone almost makes me want to take back my response, say let the girl in and quiz her on everything that's gone through her head recently. She's a mess, but she insists she doesn't need us anymore. It wouldn't be the first time she was wrong about something._

_"Chris please open up," She's sobbing now, banging on the door, "It's not safe for me out here, Chris! Please! Chris?" He stands up, wary but curious._

_"Fuck," Marcus whispers. I stand up too, and Phil and Marcus follow. I point to the bedroom and Marcus runs in. He doesn't want to see her, I know that. Phil follows him, I figure that's for the best too. She's still pissed at him for everything. Me? She's not so bad with anymore. Chris, she probably misses. Why else would she come here?_

_"Chris!" And this time, he opens the door. She almost falls in, stumbling forward and throwing herself onto the couch. We both look at her, horrified. Chris slams the door, locking it behind her._

_"What the fuck?" He gasps._

_Cat is soaking. She looks as if she's just been in lake or something, fully wet from head to toe, yet still fully dressed. She looks dirty too, and high, but there's no surprise anymore. I hadn't expected any less. I can smell the weed from here._

_"What is wrong with you?" I hiss, grabbing her by her sodden jacket. She stands again, ripping away from me and straightening out her outfit._

_"I'm being chased," She whispers, her voice wavering. Me and Chris exchange worried glances. Worried isn't the right word though, it feels a bit of an understatement for how I've felt about her for a long time now._

_Ever since she met this Joe kid, she's been passed around his friends like a fucking doll. They got her into the weed, and whatever the fuck else she's been taking. She was always on edge with us, constantly yelling and upset. She kept cheating on Marcus, chance after chance he'd give her, yet every single time she'd fuck up. He's given up on her now. I was done with her after I found the rolled joints in the bottom of her bag when she promised me that she'd stopped. I hate being lied to. I despise it even more when it's by the people I trust the most._

_"By who?" Chris asks. He goes back to the door, looking through the peep hole before turning back around and shrugging. "Nobody is there, Cat. Did they see you come up here?"_

_"I don't know," She says, her voice shaking, "Maybe."_

_"Who's chasing you?" I question, considering she ignored Chris._

_"This guy I know," She mumbles. She's getting no points for detail, that I can tell you._

_"That's not helpful," Chris grumbles, sarcastically, "Detail doesn't hurt, Cat."_

_"His name is Todd," Cat says, "He gave me some stuff and I never paid him and now-"_

_"You fucking idiot," I cut in, staring at her in disgust. This isn't the Cat that I know. This isn't my best friend Cat. This is some stupid cow that's come and taken her place._

_"What stuff?" Chris asks. I don't even want to know. Weed isn't even that bad, I can live with that. It was just how it made her that I didn't like, but if she's taking other things then..._

_It changes everything._

_"Just pills," Cat says it like it's no big deal. I beg to differ._

_"You're on pills now?" I spit. Somehow, the glare I'm giving her gets even harsher. "What next? Are you going to start LSD? What about meth? Shall we start cracking the syringes out ready for your heroin-"_

_"Fuck off Dan," She cuts in, her tone suddenly icy, "Stop being fucking stupid! You know it's not like that-"_

_"I don't know anything!" I protest, "Because how can we trust a word you say anymore, Cat? You come out with more bullshit every time we see you and now this! You're being fucking chased by a dealer! What do you want from us?"_

_"Support would be nice," Cat says, "Some fucking compassion-"_

_"I'm done with that," I yell at her. She barges out of my way, dumping her drenched back pack on the floor and peeling her jacket off. Her shirt is pretty much see through and she's shivering. "How did this happen?" I motion to her soaked state._

_"Jumped into the canal," She says, flatly, "I was high. Me and Aiden thought it would be funny, it was for about ten minutes. Then we got cold."_

_"Who's Aiden?" Marcus asks. His voice makes the three of us jump, and we turn to see him stood in the bedroom doorway, frowning. Cat's face becomes ridden with guilt when she sees him stood there._

_I remember her telling me how much she adored Marcus, how badly she wanted to be with him, how she thought he was amazing and wonderful. I guess she forgot all of that in the confusion of everything else._

_She'd still go back to him if she could. I know that. The worst part is, he'd probably take her back too. They were both so...obsessed with each other. Then she went mad and he got sad, to put it simply. I don't think they're a match made in heaven, by any means, but once upon a time they did make each other happy. That was a short lived victory for them both, but it was Cat who fucked up. Not Marcus. He didn't ask for any of this._

_None of us did._

_"Friend," Cat finally replies, bowing her head. Marcus stares for a second before stepping in, followed by Phil._

_"What's happened?" Phil asks, looking Cat up and down with serious concern._

_"She's pissed a dealer off," I summarize, frowning. Chris sighs, picking up her bag._

_"Can't you just give him the pills back Cat?" He suggests. Cat shakes her head._

_"They're not for me," She explains, "Aiden and Joe wanted them. I got them, said I'd pay later. They never gave me the money to, but they'd be worse than Todd if I gave them back - he wouldn't serve me again. When we were at the dock Todd came bounding up screaming about his money. We split and ran."_

_"Did he follow you?" I ask, worried. The last thing we need is a fucking drug dealer turning up here, but I can't say that would surprise me at this point._

_"Yeah," Cat says, "Lost me when I ran round the corner. I came in here, he probably ran straight past." I look at the trail of wet, muddy footprints on Chris's floor._

_"If he's thick," I say, "Then maybe." I point at them, and Cat's breath hitches. As if on queue, someone knocks on the door. We're all staring at Cat, and I see her gulp. She's shaking, but she doesn't look as scared as Chris. He's staring at the door like it's the entrance to hell._

_The knock comes again, calm and composed like whoever it is has all day._

_"Hello?" Chris calls out._

_"Excuse me sir," Someone replies, "Could you let us in please? We'd just like to ask a few questions, is all." We all exchange glances._

_"That's not Todd," Cat gasps, staring down at the floor. Chris goes to the door, slowly opening it to see two police men stood there, smiling but clearly concerned._

_"I'm officer Brent," One of them says, "This is officer Smith." Officer Smith puts a hand up in an awkward wave. "We were in the area, we got called out here because of an anonymous tip off that there were illegal drugs in this apartment." My stomach twists in ways it never has before. I've done a lot of bad shit in my life. I've never been in trouble with the police, and I can't say I ever intended to._

_There was a collective gasp when he said it. The officers remain calm and composed, staring at us all casually, until their eyes pass over Cat._

_"Do you always shower with your clothes on love?" Brent asks her, raising his eyebrows. Cat gulps again._

_"Long story," She says, then forces a giggle. The officers keep their eyes fixed on her, then slowly they look to the bag in Chris's hand._

_"Can we have a look at that, please?" Smith requests, holding his hand out. Cat gulps again as Chris hands the bag over, cautious but accepting. We all know what's going to be in there._

_Officer Smith walks over to the breakfast bar, where he places the bag down and unzips it, shuffling around inside of it. "I can't find any- Oh." He slowly removes his hand._

_Cat lied again._

_Those aren't pills._

-

I wake with a start. The woman, the business woman next to me, she's shaking me. I gawp at her, sitting up straight.

"You were asleep," She says, as if I didn't know, "We've pulled in, Manchester." I nod, swallowing.

"Thanks," I mutter, standing up. 

Oh fuck. I think back to the flashback, the way things were - the things Cat did. I feel sick, but I get off the train anyway. I need answers, and that's what she promised me. 

I walk down the platform, shaking. They said they'd meet me at the entrance. I'm only half way there when I spot them. 

Cat looks the same as I remember her, but her hair is shorter and brighter, and the closer I get, the skinnier her face looks. She's grinning ear to ear, but I can't force myself to return that look of joy. I don't feel it towards her, not right now. 

Chris is beside her, taller and skinnier than I remember, but then again, how accurately do I remember? He's smiling too, but he looks nervous. It's like the first time I've ever seen him, like seeing a movie star or a fictional character brought to life. But it isn't, because he's real and everything that happened was too.

And now, finally, it's all going to make sense.

That thought alone is enough to make me smile, even just a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was quicker, for me anyway? I wrote this in a day so that's pretty quick for me! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it and if you did (or didn't) I'd love to hear about that! I absolutely love reading comments so it's pretty cool when you leave them! Thank you for reading & i hope you liked it!


	18. Honesty Is The Worst Policy

I'm engulfed in a Chris and Cat sandwich just a second after they spot me, the both of them squealing before bounding over and holding me tighter than I think I've ever been held before. I hug back, naturally, and the overwhelming feeling of nostalgia hits me.

These people were my best friends. 

I may not remember everything, but I remember enough to know that, despite all of the bullshit, they were probably the best I've ever had. 

And now they're back in my life - and they have a hell of a lot of explaining to do.

"I missed you," Cat says, removing herself from around me. Chris does too, smiling awkwardly.

"I missed you too," I tell her, smiling. I'm conflicted, awfully conflicted, but for now, right now, I just need to enjoy the moment, take it all in and think positively. We have all day to get to the grim stuff. 

"Even me?" Chris asks, raising his eyebrows. I nod. I did miss him, which is weird, because I shouldn't have, but even from the very first flashback he appeared in I had a longing to get to know him, to see him, to talk to him. It was the same with them all, almost as if I'd forgotten the plot of a movie but recalled the best scene word for word.

"Yeah," I say before adding, "In a way." He frowns at me, confused. Cat loops her arm through mine and we begin to walk. I continue to explain, "I always felt like something was missing, you know? Like there was something I needed, but I didn't remember what. It's kind of hard to explain, really-"

"I'm just glad you missed me," Chris cuts in, smirking. I smile back, unsure of what to say. I really should've thought about that more, but I suppose I thought Cat and Chris would have that covered, they were the ones who wanted to talk to me about what happened. I do have a million questions, but I'd rather not just open fire without letting them initiate a conversation about it. 

"So..." I let my voice trail off as I think of something to get the conversation going. We're heading to the nearest coffee shop, just because it's an easy place to sit and talk, but I'd rather not spend the walk there in complete silence. It never used to be like this - at least, not if my memory serves me correctly. "What's changed?" I settle with.

"What hasn't?" Cat replies, rolling her eyes. I gulp. It's not the response I expected, but I don't question it. Hopefully she'll expand on that later.

"Oh," I mutter, "I could probably say the same about my life, really. It's all so different." 

"How's year eleven life treating you?" Cat asks, smirking this time. I smirk back, shaking my head.

"Awfully," I say, "Once again." 

"You'd think it'd be easier the second time around," Chris sighs. I nod in agreement. I expected it to be, and the work kind of is, but it's the social life that I'm struggling with, now more than ever.

"It's different," I explain, "Like, it doesn't feel like the second time. It just feels boring. The people are okay though." I mean, okay isn't the most fitting word, but it's not wrong either. They are okay. I've been lucky, really.

"How's PJ?" Cat questions. I wince at the sound of his name. He was the last person I wanted to think about today, to be completely honest. 

"Fine," I lie. PJ isn't fine right now, he's probably distraught over me and Connor ignoring him this week. He can be sensitive like that. "How's Marcus?" I want to stab myself as soon as I say it. Fuck.

I didn't think that through at all! Cat and Marcus...I mean, I don't even know how that all ended up. Maybe things are okay again now? 

Maybe it's the hollowed out look on Cat's face, or maybe it's pure gut instinct, but something tells me that things are far from okay between them. Of all the people though, I just had to question Marcus. He was the first person to pop into my head. I could've asked about Cassie, or Joe! But no, my brain didn't think of that, did it? As for Phil, my questions about him are all ready for later. 

"Fine," Cat says, monotonously. Nothing else is said until we reach a coffee shop. We order our drinks and then go and sit upstairs in a quiet corner. 

"So..." I say, looking around for something to say, as if the answers going to spring to my head after looking at three photos of coffee mugs. I don't know where else to look though, Cat and Chris just look painfully awkward, and they're both staring down at their drinks. Chris is biting his lip, as if trying to stop himself from saying something. 

"So," Cat repeats, nodding at the table. I frown. "I'll be honest with you Dan, I have no idea where to begin-"

"The beginning would be good," I suggest, raising my eyebrows. I wasn't exactly trying to be funny and sarcastic, I actually want her to start from the beginning, but Chris starts laughing anyway. Maybe it's nerves. 

"The beginning of what?" She asks, "I mean, there was no real beginning, Dan. It just happened, we don't know-"

"Wait, what?" I cut in, confused. They exchanged equally as confused glances before turning back to me, looks of realization plastered across their faces.

"Didn't you want to know about Phil?" Chris asks, "That's what we were going to tell you about, Dan. That's the whole point in this thing." Oh.

Right.

"Dan?" Cat says, her voice full of concern that I had yet to hear from her before. I nod. Of course this is just about Phil. They don't want to tell me about themselves. They don't want to put me in touch with him. They just want me to stop bothering them about it. That's what this was about. "Are you alright?" 

"Yeah," I mumble, I sit up straighter, forcing a smile, "Yeah, fine. I just have a lot of questions." 

"You wanted to know about Phil?" Cat asks. I nod, then shake my head, then nod again. Nerves are running up and down my legs, sickness is pooling into my stomach. Do I really want to know? Right now? What if it's not something I can handle? What if he's really fucked up? I haven't thought this through. I don't know what I'm about to hear. Am I even ready to hear it? I loved him. I don't want anything to change that. What if I can't handle the truth? What if-

"I was in love with him," I hear the words before I realize it was me that said them. I look up. Cat and Chris are looking at me almost pitifully. "We- we were in love. And he won't even talk to me now and it's really not-" 

"I know, Dan," Cat says. Chris nods along. I wonder if he still liked me by the end of it all. Hopefully not, not in that way anyway. And he's surely moved on by now. "I think that's why you need to know." 

"When we said we couldn't tell you," Chris continues for her, "We weren't trying to be dicks. We just...I think we just found it difficult. It's not easy to explain, and I don't expect you take it well-"

"Is he okay?" I ask, cutting to the chase. That's what matters to me. 

"We don't know, Dan," Cat says, and that's when it clicks. 

"We haven't seen him since before the crash," Chris explains. "We've spoken to him twice, on the phone. He wanted us to tell you-"

"Dan," Cat gushes, she shuffles over to me and puts her arm around back. "Dan, I'm sorry." She wipes my eyes. I hadn't even realized I was crying. I was just thinking about the awful tight feeling in my chest. I don't feel sick anymore, but whatever it is I'm feeling isn't any better. My gut is twisting and there's almost a throbbing in my throat. I need him. I need to see Phil. 

"I'm fine," I lie, but it comes out all thick and shaky like I'm about to break. They can see right through me, I know it. "Keep going." Chris sighs, but then continues.

"He wanted us to tell you that he loved you, but he didn't want you to see him like he was," Chris says, "He wanted to wait until he was better before he talked to you. At that point, you were still in the hospital and none of us knew what was wrong with you. We thought you were going to be alright, you know, you'd get better and he'd get better and nothing would have to change." 

"Yeah," I nod along, wishing that was how it had gone down. Things aren't ever that easy though, are they? Not for people like me. "When did you talk to him last? Where is he-"

"We don't know where he is," Cat cuts in, "His parents transferred him to a different hospital. The nurses were told not to tell us where. He called us one day on a random phone, his parents had taken his away." Sounds familiar. I think back to my old phone. It's on me right now, in my pocket. I thought I could ask about it later, but most of my questions concerning the phone require knowledge only Phil has. They can't even put me in touch with him. 

"What did he say?" I ask. 

"He told us he was doing good," Cat replies, almost smiling at the memory. I envy her. I wish I could have spoken to him. I'd do anything for that luxury now. "He told us that he loved us and that he wanted to talk to you but couldn't get in touch. He asked how you were. We explained the situation and...well, he cried for a bit. Asked us to tell you that he loved you. We never got the chance. You were moved up to London before we got to see you." 

This time, I'm crying for real. Not full on loud sobs, but just crying. The tears are slowly falling, and there isn't much I can do to stop them. It's probably better to just let it all out anyway. It's not like Cat or Chris are going to judge me for it. Chris looks on the verge of tears himself. 

"So he's okay?" I conclude, deciding to pick out the positive thing. They both shrug, which doesn't exactly fill me with hope, but now at least I know that they know just as little as me. 

"He was pretty beat up in the crash," Chris mumbles, shaking his head, "But he said he was doing well. I mean, we can only assume he fully recovered." I'm going to go with that for the sake of ease. I don't want to think that anything bad happened to him, I can't handle that mental torment. 

"Where were we going?" I ask them, after a couple of minutes of silence. I needed to let it all sink in, but now I'm just curious all over again. "When we crashed, I mean, where were we going?" It's a question that's bothered me since I realized we'd crashed, but nobody else seems to know.

"You never told us," Cat says, "We didn't know. Nobody does, believe me, we asked." It's not the answer I wanted, but I kind of expected it, and it isn't exactly useless. Now I know, wherever the fuck me and Phil were going, we didn't want anyone else to know. That alone tells me more than Cat and Chris can. 

I'm still shaken though, by all of this. He loved me. He loves me. I know that now. He's probably somewhere up the country, maybe at Oxford, wondering why I've never been in contact. I wonder if he still thinks about me as much as I think about him? Does he want to talk to me still? Did his parents blame me? Does he blame me? No way, he loves me. 

I smile for a second, before looking back up at Cat and Chris. They're staring back at me, faces full of pity and love. "So you have no idea where he is?" 

"Not a clue," Chris huffs, shaking his head. "We thought Oxford at first. You know, he was going to move there anyway in September. We called the directory and everything, but apparently he wasn't enrolled there." 

"Is there anywhere else he wanted to go?" I question, but it's more rhetorical. I'm brainstorming out loud, open to any help they might be able to offer. "Did his parents have connections to anywhere else? Other family that might know?" 

"He had a brother," Cat says, "But he moved out at sixteen, hadn't spoken to his parents or Phil in years. Apparently they really didn't get along at all. I have no idea where he is now-"

"But it's definitely worth a try," Chris cut in, almost excitedly. "How did we never think of that before, Cat? Martyn probably-"

"It's a long shot," Cat scoffs, shaking her head at Chris. She turns to me, "Martyn ran away like, six times as a teenager. I remember Phil crying about it all the time. They hadn't talked to him in years, and they weren't really upset about it either from the way I remember it. I don't think Martyn cared. He probably won't even know Phil was in a car accident." I take that in, but it still gives me hope. Sometimes trauma brings people closer. Hell, it must have worked for Cat and Chris. They were rocky before the crash, or at least in the way I remember it. I guess there are too many missing puzzle pieces for me to be sure about that. Hopefully some of those will be filled in today.

"I'll try to find him," Chris says, "I can search online and I'll get back to you when - or if - I find something." I smile gratefully.

"It means a lot," I say, "I really need to see him again." Chris nods, like he understands. I guess it has to be hard for everyone else too. They loved him just as much as I did, and they actually have clear, fond memories of him. I barely have that.

"We all do," Cat sighs, "Anyway," she takes a sip of her drink, "Can we go and do something fun? I don't want to spend all day crying over Phil again, I've done that far too many times. There's an ice rink up near the Arndale, if you like." 

-

We end up ice skating for two hours. It's not how I expected my day to be, but I'm glad we do it. It is a lot of fun, mostly because Chris falls over about fifty times and who doesn't like watching that? It's almost like old times.

Almost.

I guess it takes my mind off of everything too, which is nice. 

By the time we're finished attempting to skate (I say attempting very lightly, there was very little effort put in, I mostly just clung to the side), we're all hungry and ready for lunch. We go straight to the McDonalds across the road and sit in a corner upstairs. Corners are much quieter.

"I'm going to look like I've been abused tomorrow," Chris sighs, but he's smiling. 

"You'll have some shiners," Cat agrees, giggling, "Everyone will think it was me-"

"No way," Chris says, "They'll know you're not nearly strong enough to take me down." 

"I'd rather lie about Cat beating me up than admit to the fact I fell over fifty times on pretend ice," I sneer. Chris and Cat laugh, and Chris throws a chip at me. I eat it, smirking. 

"Fair enough," Chris says, "I think you've got a point." Our laughs soon fade, and we're left in an awkward silence. I decide it's probably time I got them to answer some of my questions. That's what I came here for, after all. They can't tell me anything more about Phil, but they can still tell me about everything else. 

"Can I ask you something?" I say, sitting up straighter. Cat frowns, looks to Chris, then nods. "How did you get over the drug addiction?" She spits her chicken nugget out. The sight would have been comical, was I not deadly serious. Chris is staring at me like I've just slaughtered a his friend in front of his face, pure disgust and shock. I can't believe they didn't see this coming. I was obviously going to remember eventually.

"I was never addicted," She whispers, staring down at the table, "I just liked them, Dan. I don't know what you remember, but you're remembering it completely out of context-"

"I remember a lot of that, actually," I say, my tone far too light considering we're talking about what was probably the darkest time in Cats life. "I know all about Joe, and what you did to Marcus. I remember you bringing Codeine to Chris's apartment and the cops showed up- How did you get out of that one, Cat?" They're both staring at me, horrified. I don't feel bad. I need to know. It was my life too, once upon a time.

"Look-" Chris tries to say something, but I know it won't be what I want to hear.

"Tell me the truth," I spit, staring directly at Cat. Her gaze is glassy, and she's looking down at the table like it's made of shit. "Please." I add it for good measure.

"I was fine," She says, her voice somewhat distant, "I never got addicted, Dan. I was in control. My friends were not. I didn't get into trouble for the drugs because I gave them Todd's name - I assume you remember him, right?"

"You spoke of him," I recall. She nods. "But the way I remember things, you were a mess." 

"I was," She huffs, sitting up straight and resting her head against the wall, "I was a mess. It wasn't all just because of the weed and stuff. I was upset about everything and it took my mind off of it all. You guys were fuming with me, but you only really saw me at my worst when I was on that stuff. I quit after the accident. Joe went to prison for two months for dealing, got let out early for good behavior and came out completely fine, now he's back in college resitting year thirteen. He's off everything too. Me and Marcus are trying to patch things up. My parents found out but they got over it pretty quickly, you know what they're like. So there you have it, Dan. Anything else you want to ask?" I sit for a minute, stunned and absorbing everything she's told me.

"Why was I so angry with you?" I ask, "I remember...I remember you calling me and I didn't want to speak to you, and-"

"Like I said," Cat cuts in, "You were all angry because I was doing weed. You thought it changed me. It kind of did, but I just didn't want to see it." 

"Oh," I mumble, unsure of what else to say. So she wasn't as fucked up as I thought. I guess that's good news. "You got yourself into some pretty fucked up situations." 

"I got us all into some pretty fucked up situations," She sighs. I nod, unwilling to dispute her on that. Chris nods too, obviously he remembers exactly what she's referring to. I can only guess she's talking about the police incident at Chris's.

"But we're all okay now," Chris says, "And that's what matters." I nod, but part of me still wants to know more about Cat and the weed and all of that bullshit. She was so out of character... 

It's probably nothing to keep worrying about. Like Cat said, the weed changed her. Drugs do that, I suppose. "Did you ever forgive Phil for wanting to go to Uni?" I ask next. I always wondered about that.

"I have now," Chris replies, his voice sad, "But at the time, when you had the accident, before that, I was still mad. He always said he wouldn't leave. Phil was my best friend, Dan, I was devastated he'd be living so far away. He wouldn't talk to me about it either, just kept saying I was never supportive of him and I never respected what he wanted. I didn't think it at the time, but he was right." I nod along. 

"Did you ever get to apologize?" I ask, more out of curiosity than an actual need to know. 

"No," Chris says, "I could have on the phone, but I kind of forgot. None of that seemed to matter anymore. He'll know. He'll know I'm sorry, for everything, I hope."

"I never got the chance either," Cat explains, "He kept saying that he didn't want to talk to me if I was high, but in the Phil way, you know, so tactfully and nice, 'I need you to get better before we can talk about this stuff Cat', that's how he was with me. None of it mattered though, not when you crashed." 

"I thought you were going to die," Chris admits, looking up at me. I can't imagine that - not being here. Maybe that would have been easier, for everyone. But I can't afford to think like that. 

"Maybe the Dan that you knew did," I say, my voice monotone. Cat shakes her head at me. Her eyes are brimming with tears.

"You're just the same," She says, smiling gently, "You know Dan, I think-" She's cut off when my phone begins to ring. I bite my lip, pulling it out of my pocket to see that it's my mum. I can't really ignore her, she probably just wants to check up on me.

"Got to take this," I huff, apologetically. They nod, obviously understanding. I clear my throat before picking up. "Hi Mum." 

"Dan!" She sounds terrified. I frown. "Where the bloody hell are you-"

"National History Museum," I lie, "Why? What's the problem?" I told her this earlier this morning. She thought it was a lovely idea to go and see the cities museums with PJ. Surely, she didn't forget. There must be something else wrong.

"With PJ?" She asks, not answering my question.

"Yeah," I reply, "What's happened?"

"Nothing," She snaps, "I just find it strange that you're at a museum with PJ, especially since he's stood on our doorstep right now-" Oh fuck.

"I can explain-" I gush, but I'm cut off.

"Are you with Connor?" She asks, "PJ seems to think you are. He is grounded, Dan, you're not supposed to be out with him! Don't make me call his parents-"

"I'm not with Connor," I spit, being honest for once. "I'm on my own and I'm fine." 

"I don't believe you," Mum says, "And why should I? All the lying you've done recently! I'm checking your phone location-"

"How?" I sneer. My parents can barely work computers, I don't see how she'll figure out how to track mobile phones in an hour. 

"There's that app!" She replies, clearly proud of herself, "I connected your phone to it when we bought it-"

"You don't need to do that-" I plead, annoyed - but mostly at myself for underestimating her. Of course she'd do something like this. She's so worried that I'll be with Connor, doing something she doesn't approve of, when in reality I'm doing something she'll consider so much worse.

I'm going to be in so much trouble.

"PJ is doing it for me," She says, her voice harsh and serious, "We're worried Dan!" I call bullshit. PJ is only worried because he thinks I'm fucking around with Connor. Once again he's interfering, making a mess of things that are just fine. PJ seems to be making a habit out of ruining things for me. 

"Don't be," I groan, "I'm fine! I promise you!" I know it's too late now. They're going to check the Find My Phone app. They're going to see I'm in Manchester. Mum is going to lose her shit. I know that now, I can't stop her. 

"It's not about whether you're fine," Mum snaps, "It's about finding where you are. You're lying to me, Daniel, about so many things, I cannot really believe-"

"I wouldn't have to lie so much if you actually believed the things I said in the first place," I hiss, earning confused and concerned glances from Cat and Chris. They know something is wrong, but there isn't anything they can do. If anything, letting them get involved would only make things worse. "I tried to tell you I was fine, and you sent me to a counselor. I tried to explain how I was remembering things and you called me insane-"

"That is completely different-" She sneers. I almost laugh. That's just her own pathetic way of trying to shut down a completely valid point. It won't work, because she knows I'm right really.

"How about when you neglected telling me that I'd come out to you?" I continue, spitting the words out, "Does that not count as lying? Because if that's the case, I suppose me neglecting to tell you about Connor isn't lying either-"

"Dan-" She yells, really shouting this time. I'm surprised Cat and Chris can't hear to be honest. 

"Shut up," I snarl, "Stop it! Just stop this! I'm sick of it! You want to know the truth? Fine. I'm in Manchester. I'm with Cat and Chris - you know, who you also neglected to tell me about. I knew you wouldn't like that, would you? You detest the idea of me remembering last year, don't you? Because you realized I'm not your innocent little boy anymore, you thought you could bring me to London and I'd be alright again? You were wrong. I remembered. I know who I am, who I was and-"

"Don't speak to me like that," She shouts. I wonder what PJ thinks to this performance? I bet he's loving it - watching me get deeper and deeper into trouble.

"I'll speak to you how I want," I snap back, "You seem to treat me how you want-"

"I'll treat you how I like, don't tell me how to parent," She scoffs, "I'm your mother, Daniel-"

"So act like one," The words fall out of my mouth before I can stop them. It was my instinctive response. My next response? Hang the fuck up. I drop my phone on the seat beside me and stare and Cat and Chris. They're both confused, quite clearly. 

"So?" Chris prompts, raising his eyebrows.

"I am in deep, deep shit," I conclude, right before my phone begins to ring again. It's Mum again, obviously. I should've expected it, really. A shit storm is coming my way. I can feel it. And the worst part?

There's no getting out of this one unscathed.


	19. Confusion and Conflicts

I knew speaking to my own mother like that was never going to end well. 

I didn't know it would result in me, four hours later, sat in the back of her car sobbing. She's taking me home, obviously, with the promise I won't leave the house again for another month for anything other than school. The situation isn't helped by PJ, who's also sat in the back of the car, looking at me with both fear and pity. He knows I'll be fuming with him, but right now I think he's the only friend my mum is going to let me see.

The drive home is long and silent. I keep crying. PJ keeps staring and my mother keeps sighing. She takes PJ to ours, suggesting that he stay for a takeaway as a thank you for being so helpful. Helpful is the last thing he was today, for me anyway - and yes, this is entirely about me. 

"Go on upstairs with PJ," Mum says to me when we pull into the driveway, "I need to talk to your dad." We do as we're told. I don't think I can risk disobeying mum again. She's on the edge with me right now, but she threw me off the edge a long time ago. I'm surprised I haven't snapped with her before today.

"I can't believe you," I hiss as soon as my bedroom door is shut. PJ looks at me with confusion, but I know he knows what he's done. The innocence act isn't going to work with me, not anymore.

"What do you mean?" He asks, "I was worried Dan-"

"Worried I was shagging Connor?" I retort, glaring. He goes bright red, then quickly shakes his head.

"This isn't about that," He says, frowning, "I just thought that you were going to get into trouble and-"

"Why should that matter to you?" I sneer, raising my eyebrows. He shrugs, then looks down at floor in what I assume is shame. "Because the way I see it, you're the one who's got me into trouble. My parents weren't supposed to find out where I was! If I wanted them to know, I'd have told them the truth, and believe it or not PJ, I am responsible enough to make choices-"

"You're not making very good ones," He spits back. PJ isn't an angry person, not ever, and it's rare he'll raise his voice, so naturally the comment takes me by surprise. It's vicious, and honestly I have no idea where he's coming from. 

"What the fuck does that mean?" I ask. He sighs and sits down on my desk chair. I flop down on my bed, waiting for him to pull together some form of response. He sighs again, biting his lip. I raise my eyebrows in encouragement, but he's staring into space. "Peej? What do you mean?" 

"You're just being so reckless," He explains, his voice quiet and timid again, "Connor is bad news-"

"Oh," I say, the realization hitting me, "So this is about Connor? Because you're the one who lied about him - we were fine before you stepped in with your bullshit-"

"I was only trying to protect you," He stammers, "I mean, yeah-I...I do like you a lot b-but it wasn't just about that-"

"It was about fucking things up for Connor too," I conclude, glaring at him. He's quick to deny it, shaking his head.

"Not at all," He gushes, "But Connor isn't fit for relationships Dan! He's not-"

"Oh shut up," I groan. I can't stand to listen to him slate Connor after everything he's done. Whatever he thinks Connor is, I really believe PJ is worse. Nobody should fuck their friends over like he has with me. "At least Connor's lied to my face and tried to ruin a relationship-"

"He's not as perfect as you think," PJ protests, scowling. There's a silence after that. It's not that I don't believe PJ is right - sure, Connor has to be flawed in ways I'm yet to realize, but I just don't know if I'm ready to hear about that yet. Not after everything today. 

"I thought you were sweet and considerate," I snarl, "Don't worry PJ, I've kind of got used to people destroying my lovely perception of them." And not just because of PJ. Cat too, and Chris - most of my friends from last year really. My own mother, too. If anyone knows that people are never as they seem, it's me.

"You have no idea what Connor is like," PJ mutters, refusing to look up at me. I hold my gaze on him though, hoping that he can feel my eyes burning into him. I'm angry, fucking furious, and he knows it. Nothing he can say will make it better. I'm not sure what I want from him - an apology? That doesn't feel like it's going to cut it, not this time. Sorry can't take it all back. I think I'm going to need time. A lot of it. Until things get better, anyway. 

"I know you though," I say, "And I know you fucked everything up for me on purpose. You wanted me to yourself. You almost made me hate Connor. You've got me into deep shit with my parents, grounded for a month, and now you're still trying to lecture me on my-"

"I'm not trying to do anything," PJ moans, "I just want things to be okay! I want you to be okay and-"

"I was just fine before you decided to shit on everything," I sneer, "I never needed your help! I was fine today, and I'm fine with Connor. Just keep out of my shit-"

"Fine," He huffs, "But don't come crying to me when he breaks your heart and when-"

"He won't," I insist, but obviously that's not something I can be sure of. If he does, I'll be sure not to cry about that to PJ. He'll probably be pleased if anything, watching my life to go shit seems to be something he enjoys. "It's not even serious, if that makes you feel any less bitter. And this shouldn't be about Connor, because this is completely different." 

"You made this about Connor," He mumbles. I disagree, but I let the comment slide because we don't need to fight about that again. This can't be about Connor. Sure, he did what he did because of Connor, but the impacts were nothing to do with Connor. That was just PJ and my mum's first, panicked idea. The truth got me into trouble far deeper than Connor could have. 

"I was seeing Cat," I tell him, "I was seeing my old friends PJ. They were helping me, telling me about last year. I needed to be there! It wasn't your place to go and-"

"You should've told me that," He responds, cutting in, "I would've gone along with it! I didn't know any better! If I knew that I was your cover story I never would have come round, but you weren't speaking to me and I wanted to talk to you-"

"Why?" I ask. Honestly, it beats me, unless he came round to apologize, which I suppose is a fair suggestion. "I didn't want to talk to you all week, why do you think I'd be any more willing now?" 

"I wanted to explain," PJ huffs, "Because I knew it was stupid to lie about Connor. I knew it was even more stupid to kiss you and try to make him jealous and I knew that I should never have let it get that far but I just despised you two together because-"

"Because you wanted it to be you," I finish for him. He nods slowly, his face growing pink. I can understand that. I can't forgive it though, not yet. He was fucking stupid, and it could've ruined everything had Connor not come round to see me. Then again, had he not come around to see me, we'd never have been caught. It was a domino effect, and I don't think the pieces are done falling yet.

"I told them both I was bi in year eight," PJ continues. I look up at him, confused. He's still looking passed me though, staring at my window. "I told them that I liked you. I used to talk about you all the fucking time, Dan. They promised they'd never say anything and they never did. I told Mackenzie about you before you moved. She didn't mind either. Then I told my parents."

"Did they mind?" I ask, quietly. As angry as I am, I'm not going to act out and snap at him when he's telling me something like this. It's personal, and maybe it will offer me some sort of clearance or context on why he did what he did. I mean, hopefully. 

"Not at all," PJ says. I feel a pang of jealousy. Of course his parents won't mind, they're lovely. "I think they always suspected, but anyway, so Connor and Clarky and Mack - they all knew how I felt about you. I found out Connor was gay in year ten, but he didn't know I knew that. I saw him kissing...oh gosh, don't tell anyone-"

"Freddy," I sigh, "Yeah, I know all about that-"

"What?" PJ gasps, his eyebrows practically go to his hairline. My stomach twists - did PJ see someone different? Oh fuck. I just outed Freddy.

"They dated," I say, "I mean, don't tell anyone! Fuck. I thought that's who you were going to say! Who did you see?" PJ still looks shocked, but he shakes his head and continues.

"Connor and this kid called Mason," PJ says, "They never knew that I saw." I don't want to believe him, after all, he did lie last time. For all I know, he could be lying again - he doesn't want me to trust Connor. Plus, Connor would have told me the other day. I can't even remember a kid at school called Mason. 

"Who's Mason?" I ask, frowning. 

"He isn't in any of our lessons," PJ shrugs, "You'd probably know him if you saw him. He's skinny and pasty, kind of stereotypically gay - really loud and girly. Everyone says he got sucked off by this year eleven when we were in year nine but-" I didn't need the kids life story.

"Right," I say, cutting in, "Well, I mean, so what if Connor got with other people. I don't care." That's only half true. I only care that he tells me.

"I just hate that he got with you, of all people," PJ says, his voice cracks as if he's about to cry - and that's when I realize. 

Connor got with me knowing how PJ felt. 

Connor stabbed his friend in the back just to get with me. 

Connor went by every day conducting situations for us to get together with full knowledge that PJ liked me, and had done for years. And PJ had to sit back and watch as I fell for his best friend.

I feel a slight stab in my stomach.

Maybe PJ isn't being as much of a prick as I thought. 

"He could have anyone," PJ sighs, "But he had to have you." I don't want to pity PJ, but right now, I really really do. 

-

PJ's mum comes to pick him up around nine. We're both downstairs, awkwardly sat with my parents watching shitty TV when his mum comes around. Dad keeps glaring at me, then looking to PJ with this hopeful, glassy look. I bet they wish I was like him, PJ is so picture perfect.

Instead they're stuck with me - a train wreck. 

"Hello!" PJ mum calls as she walks through the door, grinning. She's met with four very grim faces, and her smile falters. "Everything alright?" She looks to my mum with furrowed brows.

"I think we need to have a chat Lisa," Mum sighs. She looks to the kitchen, the back to Lisa. Lisa nods, smiles at me and PJ, then follows my own mum into the kitchen. PJ looks at me with widened eyes, as if he's afraid. I'm just as curious to know what they're going to say. There is no doubt in my mind it's going to be about us. 

I'm staring at the kitchen door, wondering what on earth they're talking about behind it. PJ is too. I don't take my eyes off it the entire twenty minutes that they're in there. Nobody else says a word. Dad keeps his eyes fixed on the TV, but he's clearly making a conscious effort to do so. It's not until Mum and Lisa come back in, both watery eyed, that he bothers to look up, and even then his expression remains blank. 

"Right PJ love," Lisa says, her voice as chirpy as ever, "Are we off?" PJ nods, standing up. 

"See you at school Dan," He mumbles. I nod. 

"Bye," I call, half-hearted. I still feel angry at PJ, though considerably less so than I did earlier today. I feel conflicted about Connor, but part of me wants to doubt PJ. He's like to me before to get what he wants, maybe he'd do it again. I have no idea who to trust really. 

My parents are still angry with me, and I think they will be for the rest of the month. They're taking my phone away, and my laptop. Luckily, I've got my old phone. They don't need to know about that though. 

As soon as the front door shuts, dad's eyes are glued to me. I stand up as if I'm going to leave, but dad does the same and blocks the doorway. 

"You're not going anywhere yet," He snaps. I gulp, then sit back down. I want to scream and shout at him, because none of this is my fault, but I don't want to dig myself a deeper hole. I can't handle getting into any more trouble than I already am. "You little shit."

"I'm sorry," I mutter, looking up at him. He's crossed his arms in an attempt to be intimidating, but my dad's too skinny and old to be intimidating. 

"No you're bloody not," He sneers. I almost snort. He's right. "You're not sorry for shit, are you Daniel? And we raised you better than that. You should know better than to go around worrying us like that-"

"You were only worried because you thought I was with my boyfriend," I protest, blushing immediately after. I've never called Connor my boyfriend out loud before, we've barely even discussed that. It just kind of slipped out. I suppose it's the easiest umbrella term for whatever the fuck it is that me and him have. 

"Boyfriend," Dad spits the word, then laughs. The way he says it makes me want to throw up - the disgust and bitterness in his voice. I hate it. I hate him. "It's not right Dan. We raised you better."

"Clearly not," I scoff, "You could've raised a saint and I'd still be gay. Is that what this is about? Are you just that desperate to punish me for it?"

"Don't be stupid," Dad says, shaking his head, "This is about you lying to us, Daniel. You can't do that." 

"Fucking hypocrite," I hiss, my blood boiling. How dare they? How can they have the audacity to preach honesty when they've lied to me about an entire year of my life? If you can call 'leaving out details' lying, that is. By my parents definition, apparently that still counts.

"Language," Mum gasps. I almost laugh. It's the first thing she's said this entire conversation and once again, she's lecturing me for doing something that she does all the time. 

"You've both lied to me," I say, "I lied to you once! I only did that because I knew you wouldn't let me go if I told you the truth. You hate Cat, you'd have never let me go and see her-"

"She was on drugs the last time we saw the girl," Dad sneers, "We don't want you hanging around with scum like that, Daniel. It was for your own good when we moved you back up here." 

"She's off of the drugs now," I tell them, "She's fine! And at least she never made me feel like shit for things that are out of my control-"

"This isn't about that," Mum sighs, cutting in, "That is completely different-"

"No it isn't," I protest, "Because you both despise the fact I'm gay! They never did. They didn't care. And you, my own parents, were fucking awful to me about it. I will never be able to forgive you for that! You ruined-"

"Stop it," Dad hisses, "You're acting like a brat. You need to get a grip, Daniel. This isn't about you being...gay." He says the word like it's going to burn him. 

"Bullshit," I huff, shaking my head.

"This is about you lying," Dad continues, "Because I have had enough. You're causing so much trouble. Your poor mother and PJ, had to go all the way to bloody Manchester because of you!"

"They didn't have to," I counter, raising my eyebrows, "They did it because mum didn't want me being around Cat and Chris-"

"Rightfully so," Mum scoffs, "Don't act like I'm the villain!" 

"You are though," I spit, "You both are! You fucking lied to me, about so much, then expected me to be honest with you about everything! I tried to tell you the truth and you shipped me off to see a bloody counselor! You never tried to help me remember last year, you fucking wanted me to forget! But I didn't! I can remember-"

"Bullshit," Dad shouts, slamming his hand into the wall. I laugh.

"You fucking wish," I chime, smirking at him. I know I've lost it. This is it now, for good. I've snapped. I am done with their bullshit, and I finally get to say it. "I remember them all! I remember Phil-"

"He was trouble from the start," Dad sneers, "Fucking fairy-"

"Pig," I hiss back. Dad looks like he's going to punch me. But he wouldn't dare. 

"Get to your room," Mum says, quickly. I look at her, confused. She looks terrified. I look back to dad, who's bright red and glaring down at me like I'm some sort of rodent. I look back up, stone faced but petrified as I let everything I've just said sink back in. 

"I thought you said-" I begin to protest.

"Go," She hisses. I sigh and stand up, walking to the door. Dad mutters something before stepping to the side so that I can pass. I walk slowly up the stairs, and I can hear my parents talking in hushed voices, exchanging angry words. I can't tell if they're angry at me or each other or just life. I think I'm mad at all three. 

I half expected to cry when I got to my room, but the tears don't come. I just feel empty, if anything. My laptop is still on my desk, so I decide to make use of that before they take it away. I log on and not even a second later I get a message from Chris.

 **C: Found Phil's brother. You will never guess where!!!!!!!**

My heart jumps when I see the sentence. I had hoped the idea would work, but I was careful not to rely on it too much. I've learnt to expect disappointment in this life, so the idea that for once, something has been a success, makes my heart leap.

**D: Where???**

**C: London. He works in a bar about an hour away from your school. I can sort out bus routes for you if you want to go up and see him? Can I tag along?**

**D: Oh shit yes please? One problem - I'm grounded after today.**

**C: We can work around that. Just say it's an after school club and I'll come up on Monday or something. I'll figure out the way and everything!**

**D: What about Cat?**

**C: She has college until five. I can ask though, she'd skip probably lol.**

**D: Maybe not, he might not like a crowd?**

**C: True. So are you up for it?**

**D: 100% Thank you so much.**

**C: Cool. See you Monday then.**

I practically jump for fucking joy. I didn't expect everything to work out so soon. It's not official yet, but it's getting there. And if Phil's brother is so close, maybe that means Phil is too? 

I guess I'll find out Monday.


	20. Best Case Scenario?

_It's raining. The heaviest I've seen it in forever. I can't take my eyes away from the window, they're glued to the glass as if it's showing me heaven above. It's just rain, but even rain is more interesting than the bullshit Mrs Frost is going on about._

_I didn't realize how little attention I'd paid to rain before now. It's a lot nicer when you stare. The minuscule droplets bounce against the concrete in their millions. It looks like a never ending shower, just going on and on. No matter how much you look up, you can't see exactly where they came from, as if they just materialize in mid air, because the clouds are too high up to really pin point what came from what. It's mad to think that the tiny little drops of water came all that way only to soak into a shitty school car park. I wonder how far they fell._

_Phil says that rain is his favorite weather because the sound is really peaceful and soothing. I quite like the sound too. I think rain kind of reminds me of Phil, in the least depressing way possible. I mean, who decided that rain was a bad thing anyway? It's kind of cool actually, minus the getting wet part, it makes for really good adventures. Sure, it's messy, but you can look back and laugh at all the times you spent running to shelter from the rain and splashing about in puddles and sliding along the damp and muddy banks that it leaves behind. Rain isn't all bad, just sometimes a little inconvenient._

_"Daniel," Mrs Frost snaps. I break my gaze with the window and look up at her, wide eyed and innocent. She hates me, so it doesn't really matter that I wasn't paying attention, I'm getting told off regardless. That seems to be happening a lot, and I'm too used to it for it to really bother me anymore. "Have you never seen rain before?"_

_"What?" I mutter, confused. She raises her eyebrows at me._

_"You weren't listening," She says, as if I didn't know. "Did you think you were being discreet about that?"_

_"Uh," I'm not sure how to respond, so I just decide not to._

_"So you can't hear or speak?" She quizzes, her tone condescending and harsh. I can feel my cheeks heating up, but there's no real reason to be embarrassed. I've gotten worse lectures in front of everyone before. People are used to me disrupting the class with my supposed 'ignorance'. It isn't that I don't want to listen, it's more that I just can't. I have other things going off, my mind is so busy with everything else that I can't seem to focus on one thing for long. I keep trying to distract myself from thinking about the things I really want to think about._

_Like Phil and how big my crush on him has gotten. Even the thought makes my stomach twist._

_"What?" I repeat, gulping. Mrs Frost shakes her head at me, either disgusted or annoyed. I can't really tell and I don't care to decipher._

_"You need to listen," She sighs, "See me after class."_

_-_

_When I finally get out of the ten minute lecture, everyone has pretty much gone. Nobody likes to stay behind at school on a Friday, and I had no intention of doing so either. Cat is waiting for me by the school gates, her umbrella shielding her from the downpour. She looks miserable, I blame the rain._

_"I don't think Marcus likes me back," She says, her voice cracking. Maybe it isn't the rain then. I force a smile. I disagree, but she can't seem to see it. I think Cat believes Marcus is too good to be true, he's too good for her and he'll never like her back. She's wrong about all of those things, but her mind is set._

_"Why would he not?" I ask, "What makes you think that?" Beside her insecurity. I get it though, I'm the same. Me and Phil have kissed three times and I'm still struggling to accept the idea that he feels the same way about me as I do him. It's a bit too perfect._

_"He hasn't text me back for six hours," She huffs. I almost laugh at her, until I realize she's deadly serious. "I think he's into Cassie." I'm yet to meet Cassie, but apparently she's quite the character. Phil said she was nice so I trust that._

_"I doubt it," I reassure her, "You know he's into you, at least a little bit. He wouldn't have taken you out last week if he wasn't a little bit interested in you as more than a friend, and he definitely wouldn't have kissed you."_

_"Wasn't a good kiss though," Cat mumbled. I smirk._

_"Only because you were hammered," I say. She chuckles, and I know that she knows I'm right. She's just scared, but I understand that. I get scared too, and as much as I hate to compare the situations I have a hell of a lot more to be scared about. I don't even have anyone to talk to about it, and it's not even like I can go to Cat about my issue._

_"Are you still going to that family meal tonight?" Cat asks. I feel my face heat up at the mention of it, but I play along. I can't back track on my story now, and I have no intention to. It's the only way I'll get out of going to Chris's again._

_"Yeah," I sigh, "I really wanted to come, sorry. You know what my dad is like." She rolls her eyes. Cat knows what he's like a little bit more than we'd both like._

_"I do," Cat huffs, "It's going to be a fucking shit night in without you and Phil though. I can't believe Phil's parents still ground him."_

_"I know, right?" I play along, though I know full well Phil isn't really grounded. He is staying home tonight though, but not because he has to. His parents are going out and he wants to stay home._

_I'm going over and we're just going to hang out for a little bit. We don't do much alone, just the two of us, but we figured we might as well if we want something to happen between us. I hope he does, because Lord knows I do. We can't tell the others though, they wouldn't understand._

_"It's absolute bull," She continues ranting all the way home. I don't mind, it means that I don't have to comment. Everyone would be fuming if they realized that we'd lied about not being able to make it to Chris's, especially Chris. He likes to think that his small gatherings are these unmissable events, when in reality it's just five of us sat in his living room drinking cheap alcohol and making dick jokes._

_I'm not complaining, but tonight I have a better offer. I'd be an idiot to miss it. I'm more excited for this than I have been for anything in a long time, I just hope everything goes my way. I hope Phil wants it to go the same way as me._

_If he wants anything at all. I shouldn't be over confident about it, it will only make the possible rejection worse if that does happen to be the outcome. I guess only time will tell._

_I can only hope time is going to be really fucking kind._

-

When I'm done noting the flashback down, I get ready for school.

It drags, as expected, but only because I'm so eager for it to end. Chris is getting the train down here today. He's using the map on his phone to take himself to the school and meet me here at the end of the day. We're going to walk up to the bar where Martyn works and take it from there, though I have no idea where to begin with him. I won't know what to say, but there isn't much point in preparing something right now, I'm better at improvising anyway.

"You're quiet today Dan," PJ says. Connor is back, but he's spending his lunch and break in the spare classroom catching up on everything he missed, so we don't have to deal with the awkwardness of the three of us together just yet. I'm dreading that, but I'm trying not to think about it. 

I'm not as angry at PJ anymore, but I'm awfully conflicted about how to deal with him and Connor. If what he's saying is true, then Connor really isn't as nice as I like to think, but how can I just take PJ's word for it? And how can I ask Connor about it without him getting suspicious? I don't really want him to know that I'm talking to PJ again, it would only piss him off.

"Tired," I say. It's my usual response to that kind of thing, mostly because it's just far easier than coming up with some other bullshit excuse or telling them the truth. I told my parents that tonight I had to do some more revision classes after school and they believe me, from what I gather anyway, but it's probably only because they want to believe me. God forbid I lie to them again...

"Are you sure that you're okay?" Mackenzie asks, frowning. I nod quickly, probably too quickly, but they don't question me any further, probably because they know that I won't give them any answers.

By the time school is over, I'm rearing to go, both nervous and eager to meet Martyn. Chris is waiting by the school gates, and I earn a couple of confused glances when I walk over to him. Luckily, I got out a couple of minutes earlier than anyone I know so none of my friends see me and him to question it. I'd probably have no choice but to tell them the truth about Chris - I can't think of any other explanation that wouldn't raise suspicion. 

"Does Cat know?" I ask him. Chris shakes his head.

"I feel like I should have told her," Chris says, "But she'd have wanted to come with us, and a crowd is a bad idea. Plus, she can't afford to miss any more college."

"When are you going to tell her?" I scoff, "Because if this goes well then you're going to have to. If it's a dead end then it doesn't matter, but we can't afford to think that will be the case." 

"We also can't afford to get our hopes up," Chris counters, "I remember how things were with him, Dan. From the way Phil used to talk, it wouldn't surprise me if they'd never told him to begin with." Obviously, that possibility has occurred to me too. I just haven't prepared for it in any way, shape or form.

"If that is the case, what do we do?" I ask, hoping that Chris has got some magical answer to it. He just shrugs though, and we walk in silence for a couple of minutes, letting the thoughts pool for a bit. "I have no idea what to expect."

"The worst," Chris says, "I've gotten used to that by now." I don't dispute the point. I relate to it too much. 

"I wish I didn't understand that," I sigh, staring down at the gritty pavement. I'm just following where Chris is going. He's the one who knows where the bar is. 

"The universe hasn't exactly been kind, has it?" Chris snorts, "But we're doing okay, if you want to look at it positively. At least we're making progress, of some distorted kind." He's right, this is getting better. We are getting closer to Phil, I can feel it in my gut. He's close. I just hope I can trust my gut for once. Everything else it's told me has been complete bullshit. 

"Best case scenario," I say, "Is that Martyn knows exactly where Phil is and puts us in touch there and then." That's the scenario I'm dreaming of. 

"Worst case scenario," Chris replies, "Is that Martyn refuses to talk to us and has no idea about what happened to Phil." But that's unlikely, right? I hope so, because I'm really not ready to deal with that kind of situation. It would drive me insane. This is the one chance I have to look for Phil, if Martyn can't help, I don't know who else can.

"I don't want to think that's possible," I sigh, "I mean, what kind of family wouldn't tell their son that his brother almost died?" I can't remember much about Phil's family, but judging by how wonderful Phil was, his family can't have been that awful. Or maybe they were and Phil just knew better than to be like they were. I don't know enough to make that judgement. 

"They were fucked up," Chris explains, "His parents were dead set on never talking to the guy again. They pretended like he didn't even exist. I don't know if the crash changed that, Dan." But I sure fucking hope it did.

-

We get there at five. The bar has only just opened, but people are filing in already. I look at Chris awkwardly, trying to figure out whether we look old enough to even get in. I'm in my uniform, but I've taken my tie and blazer off so it's just a plain shirt and trousers. Chris is dressed in all casual clothes, we look odd, but they can't turn us away for that alone. He just shrugs and we walk inside.

It's nice, fancier than I expected. It almost looks like a music venue - there are band posters covering one wall entirely and a stage shoved into the corner of the room, an amp sitting in the corner unused and speakers dotted around the room playing quiet metal. I wonder if Phil would like it in here. I kind of do.

"Is he a bartender?" I ask Chris, who nods in response. I look to the bar, but it's two girls serving right now, one of which is stood against the back wall on her phone, whilst the other serves a middle aged man in a Metallica vest a beer. Maybe Martyn doesn't start until later - there's only one way to find out.

I go to the bar and Chris follows me, clearly curious but silent. 

"Excuse me," I say to the barmaid. She looks up at me and grins. 

"Can I help you?" She asks. Her cockney accent is thick, and Chris scoffs. I have half a mind to kick him, but she doesn't seem to care. 

"Um," I think she expects me to order a drink, but that's not what I'm here to do - even if I was of legal age. "I was actually wondering if uh, you knew someone that worked here." 

"If they work here I probably know them," She says, one eyebrow perfectly raised. I let out a huff of amusement and Chris forces an awkward laugh, as if he's purposely trying to make this situation even more uncomfortable for everyone.

"Right," I continue, "Uh, he's called Martyn-"

"Everyone knows Martyn," She cuts in, suddenly grinning from ear to ear. I smile back, relieved. Of course she knows him. Of course everyone knows him. That's fucking brilliant. "He's in tonight, if that's what you wanted to know." 

"It is actually," I say, "When does he start?" The sooner, the better, but I don't really mind having to hang around. 

"He's supposed to be here now," The barmaid says, "But he's always a little late. Give it ten minutes. Do you mind me asking why you want to see him?" I do actually, but I decide to explain anyway. Maybe she can tell me something - if Martyn knows about Phil, he might have mentioned it before.

"I was uh, friends with his brother," I tell her, "But I haven't seen him in a while. I just want to know if Martyn can put me in touch with him." She nods and it gives me a boost of confidence. She didn't seem surprised at the mention of his brother, which can only be a good sign, right? 

"Cool," She replies, "Do you want to like, get a drink and sit down? I'll send him your way when he gets in." 

Chris buys me a coke and himself a beer. We sit in the corner and wait, both as eager as each other.

"What would your parents do if they knew you were here right now?" He asks me. I shrug. I've given it some thought, but I've concluded that whatever they decide to do, whatever punishment they give, it's meaningless in comparison to how amazing meeting Phil will be. And really, what's the worst they can do? Ground me? I think I can survive that.

"I don't know," I respond, and that's the genuine truth. I don't know what they'd do, and I don't want to. I'd be in trouble, that's a given, but I'm not sure what kind of trouble. Best case scenario, they'd begin to understand why I keep doing this stuff. Worst case scenario, I never get to do this stuff again.

But maybe that's beyond their control now.

And maybe Chris is wrong. Maybe we should stop being used to the worst case scenario.

"What would yours do?" I ask him. I can't really remember Chris ever talking about his parents, and I don't know whether that's because those conversations have never come back or whether it's because he just never talked about them.

"Nothing," He shrugs, "I can do what I want now." 

"You always have," I sneer. He smirks, nodding. "Did you always get into trouble?" 

"Only for the stuff that didn't matter," Chris sighs, "I remember getting yelled at for not being on time out of a job interview. It was never the bad stuff that mattered to them, like my mum didn't give two shits when she found a bottle of vodka in my school bag, but she was about to set me on fire when she realized that I hadn't tidied my room." That's sounds shitty, in its own way.

"At least you got out," I say, trying to hide the envy in my voice. I can't wait to leave, but I have a feeling it's probably going to be a while before that happens. I can't just leave, I'm still in school for one, but also because I have no money and no job and nowhere to fucking go. 

"Running from your problems isn't all that it's cracked up to be," Chris mutters, staring down at the table. I nod, as if I understand. That's when I hear the foot steps walking over. I look up to see a man, scarily similar looking to Phil, walking over. I know it's Martyn immediately. They're features are so alike, but Martyn looks so tough. His hair is clearly dyed black and spiked up, and his black shirt sleeves are rolled up to expose what looks like the lower half a tattoo sleeve. He has a septum piercing and a lip ring, but he's smiling at us.

"You know my brother," He says, dragging up a chair. I nod, unable to gather any words. I did know his brother, once upon a time. 

"We do," Chris says, grinning, "Um, I'm Chris, his friend." 

"And what brings you here?" Martyn asks, "Lindsey didn't tell me what you wanted, just that you'd asked to speak to me about Phil, right?"

"We just have some questions," Chris explains, "We haven't seen him in over a year." 

"Same here," Martyn sneers, "Fuck, it's been way longer. I can't keep track anymore." My stomach twists. That means that he never went to see Phil after the accident.

Which means maybe he doesn't even know that there was an accident.

"Do you know what happened?" I ask, the words falling out of my mouth from pure concern. I couldn't bare having to explain it all to his fucking brother. I'd break down.

"If you're talking about the crash then yes," Martyn replies. Relief floods through me. "My mum and dad rang me up a week later, just to inform me that he was doing well and they were moving him to a hospital close by if I wanted to go and see him. I talked to him on the phone a couple of times, but never went up to see him."

"Why not?" I ask. I almost want to feel angry with him. He had a chance to see Phil, and he didn't fucking take it. 

"Where was the hospital?" Chris inquires, which is probably a much more important question than the one I asked.

"Smith Street," Martyn says, "It's only about half an hour from here in a car, if you head towards Oxford-"

"We don't need directions," Chris cuts in, "Wait, Oxford?" Martyn nods.

"They were moving up there for Phil to go to Uni anyway," Martyn explains, "My mum said they wanted him near." I gulp. He's close. He has to be. 

"He never went to Uni," Chris tells Martyn. Martyn's face falls, first in shock, but his expression quickly changes to something that resembles confusion. He looks from Chris back to me, and I simply shrug. I wish I had some sort of explanation, but I'm more clueless than anyone. "We rang in and checked. He didn't enroll." 

"So where did he go?" Martyn scoffs, "Because they're not in Manchester anymore." 

"We know," I say, "That's why we contacted you. I thought you might know where they'd gone." 

"They don't tell me shit," He sighs, shaking his head at me. He didn't need to tell me, it was already quite evident. "I wish I could help you, but I don't know where they'll be."

"But you can find out," I counter, slamming my hand on the table much more violently than I meant to. Chris glares at me, and Martyn frowns. "Just call your parents. Ask-"

"It isn't that simple," He cuts in, "I don't think you quite understand. I can't just call, mate. They won't welcome me with open arms. You try-"

"They're not my biggest fan either," I huff, "If I had any contact details at all I wouldn't be sat here right now." Martyn looks me up and down then, curiosity covering his face. He isn't even trying to hide it, and I don't care. He hasn't even asked me my name, and that alone tells me how much he cares that we're here.

He doesn't care to help us, and he certainly doesn't care for Phil. It makes my gut twist.

"So you need a number?" He asks. I nod, looking to Chris for reassurance. Chris nods too. 

"Anything," I whisper. Martyn frowns again.

"Why do you want to get in touch so bad?" He inquires, standing up. I stand too, leaving Chris the only one sat down. 

"I was in the crash with him," I explain. His face twists into shock. "I lost my memory. I'm starting to remember bits and pieces of things, but I can't remember everything. Phil, he knows things that I have no clue about. We were together, me and him-"

"So you're Dan," Martyn gasps. My eyebrows practically shoot off of my face.

He knows who I am.

"Did Phil tell you about me?" I ask, my voice shaking. The idea of that makes a warm pool form in my stomach. Martyn nods, his eyes remain fixed on me with something mixed between pity and confusion glazed over them. 

"So are you going to help us?" Chris asks. 

"So you and Phil, you were in love?" Martyn asks me, ignoring Chris completely. I nod, feeling my face heat up.

"He wanted to see me too," I tell him, lowering my voice,"We just can't get in touch now. But I loved him, I really did. Still do." And I'm not lying. I still feel that love, it's just much deeper than before - buried under all the lost, missing jigsaw pieces still floating around my brain. You can't just forget feelings, they're not like memories.

"And you traveled from Manchester to come here and beg me for my parents number?" He says. I shrug.

"I was moved here after the crash," I huff, "But Chris did." 

"So are you going to help us?" Chris repeats, louder this time. Martyn bites his lip, looking from me to Chris and then back again. My legs are trembling with nerves as I wait for his response, sick practically sitting in my throat because I know that ultimately, this is make or break. 

"I-" He begins, but I can't take no for an answer. I can't risk that.

"Please," I cut in, "Please fucking help me. I need him, Martyn. I love him." He looks at me, head tilted as if he's trying to weigh me up again. I can feel his eyes burning into me. My own eyes are watering, the rest of my flooding with nerves. If he says no, this is over.

"Yes," He says. Hope fills me. I never knew before this moment how much a word could mean to me. "I'll help you. We'll find him."


	21. So Close

We end up sat in the back room. 

Martyn has his phone to his ear, trying every number he can. Chris is pacing, running his finger up and down the wooden wall whilst waiting for something to finally happen. I'm simply sat, silently waiting.

I can't believe how well this has gone. I honestly thought for a second that Martyn would refuse to help us, but here he is, calling up every family member he can think of to try and find out where Phil is. Part of me is glad that he doesn't know any more than I do, it makes me feel a little less alien about it all. Plus, it instills a bit of hope in me - if there was anything too bad that had happened to Phil, Martyn would have been told. 

"Hello!" Martyn exclaims. Mine and Chris's heads turn to him. It's the first thing he's said in over five minutes - call after call being rejected or ignored. This is the first person to pick up, and I really hope they know something. "Yeah, I know. I miss you too...I know...I...Oh, okay, well, maybe." He's having a conversation, and I don't want to rush him into asking about Phil.

"Ask," Chris whispers, obviously having a different approach to it. Martyn just rolls his eyes at Chris. He keeps talking to his relative, asking about them and the family before actually bringing up Phil.

"Actually Mag," Martyn says, "I was wondering about Phil. I haven't seen him in a long time, is he uh, still off at Uni?" My stomach is twisting. I watch and wait for a reaction from Martyn. His face changes before he says anything, and the way he looks tells me more than anything verbal could. He went from looking uncomfortable and curious to petrified and confused in a matter of seconds. I need to know why. "He dropped out? That's so...I mean, he was so excited for it! Do you know why?" 

I sit up straighter in the chair. Martyn is nodding along to the person on the other end of the phone. I wait, and even Chris has stopped pacing - leaning back against the wall with his eyes glued to the phone in Martyn's hand.

"Oh," Martyn mumbles, staring down at the floor, "I see. So do you have any idea where he went?"

I fucking hope she does.

"Right," Martyn says. He's quiet for a couple of minutes then, staring at the ground which makes it hard for me to read his expressions. Chris is staring, eyebrows knitted together in pure confusion. He's just as desperate to know what is being said as I am. "Okay. Well, thank you. It means a lot. Can you text me that please? Brilliant...Thank you, so much...Yeah...I uh, yeah, exactly." 

"Is it good news?" Chris whispers to Martyn, who puts his thumb up in response. I hold back a grin but I feel like screaming.

I'm finally getting somewhere. We're finally getting close to Phil! That means the world to me, and I don't know how I can express that without breaking down into tears - and I'm not about to do that right now. Not before I've heard what Martyn has learned anyway.

"Yeah," Martyn continues on the phone, "I do too actually, but it was nice to speak to you...I know. Yeah...Uh, yeah...Right. Well thank you so much. I'll be in touch soon then...Alright. Goodbye." As soon as he hangs up I open my mouth.

"What did she say?" I practically scream. Martyn smiles and begins typing on his phone. I'd be annoyed that he's playing games and slow timing, but I'm too excited. 

"He dropped out of Oxford," Martyn explains, painfully slow, "He transferred to Kings."

"So he's still in the city?" I croak, my chest tingling. He's close. He's so close!

"London," Martyn confirms, "I don't know where my parents are living right now. But Phil is in the halls of residence there. And I have a number." I feel choked up, like I'm taking too much in at once.

He's close. And I know exactly how close. We can find him easily now - he's living in the same fucking city! And with a number? Fuck. 

"Who's number?" Chris asks. He looks just as shaken as I must, his face deep red and his eyes wide with a cross between shock and hope. 

"I'm not sure," Martyn explains, "She said she had 'the number'. I mean, maybe it's Phils. Maybe not." 

"Can we ring it?" I ask, almost shaking. "Right now?" Martyn looks down at his phone, then up at the door.

"I have to get back to work," He says, "I'm only getting away with this because I said it was a family emergency."

"It is a family emergency," Chris argues half heatedly. Martyn lets out of a huff of amused breath, but he's shaking his head.

"For you two," Martyn scoffs. I raise my eyebrows, but I don't question him on that logic. It isn't really my place to go grilling him, although I am curious. Chris seems to be too, frowning at Martyn as if he's said something offensive. "Call it Dan, if Phil picks up then tell him I hope he's okay." 

"Don't you want to talk to him?" I ask. He shrugs.

"This is your thing," Martyn explains, "I wasn't interested before you two showed up here, that's hardly changed. You've got what you need from me, right?" I mean, he isn't wrong.

"Oh," I mumble, "Yeah, right. Thank you." He nods.

"No trouble," He says, "I'll check on you in ten minutes, then you're probably going to have to leave - unless you plan on sitting in here all night." He hands me the phone and heads towards the door.

"Thank you so much," I say as he walks out. The door shuts behind him, and I can't tell whether or not he heard me. I look down at the phone. The number is typed into the call bar. I look to Chris. He nods. I press the green button and hold it to my ear.

It feels like the longest twenty seconds of my life. The annoying dial tone repeating and repeating, vibrating down my ear. Chris's eyes are piercing into me, eager and hopeful. He wants this just as much as I do, so when the dial tone ends and someone picks up, his face lights up merely at the sight of my own. "Hello?" I say, my voice shaking. 

"Hello," Someone responds. I know it's not Phil's immediately, "Who's calling?" 

"Um," I can feel a lump forming in my throat, "Is...Is Phil there?" 

"Who's calling?" The voice repeats. It's a mans voice, and I try to ignore the stab of jealousy in my stomach. 

"My name is Dan," I say, "I'm an old friend of his. C-can I speak to him please?" Chris starts to pace again. I keep my eyes fixed on the ground. 

"He isn't home," The man says, but I don't care. Because all that matters is I've found his home. This is where he lives. "He's out." 

"Do you have his mobile number?" I ask, cutting him off. I can't wait much longer to talk to him, not when I'm already so close. I just need to hear his voice, check that he's okay. 

"Yeah," The man huffs, "But I'm not going to give it out to strangers who call out of nowhere-"

"Please," I plead, "You don't understand! Phil would want to hear from me, trust me-"

"Who even are you?" He sneers, "Because he's never mentioned a Dan before." It's no longer a stab of jealousy, more like a stab of pain.

He doesn't talk about me anymore? 

It's barely been a year. And he's stopped talking about me. Already. How can that be? 

Because I can't shut up about him. He consumes half my fucking thoughts, and yet he hasn't even mentioned me to his fucking room mate? That doesn't seem right. It doesn't sound like Phil. Not my Phil.

"Hello?" They say. I snap out of my thoughts, looking back up at Chris. He's staring at me, eyes unmoving from the phone I'm holding to my ear, as if trying to read what the person is saying to me. 

"Right," I say, suddenly bringing myself to reply, "Well we haven't seen each other in a while so, maybe that's why. I just need a number. Please." It's hardly much to ask or give. I mean, even if I had bad intentions, what's the worst I could do with a phone number?

"I'm not giving you his number," The man groans, "It's not that difficult to understand." I feel like kicking something.

"Well can you ring him please?" I ask, "Just tell him Dan wants to see him. Tell him that I remember and-" And what? Because there's so fucking much that needs to be said.

"No," He cuts in, "I'm busy, I don't have time to pass on messages all night. Look, I'll let him know that you called. Dan, right? Call back when he's home." This time, I really do kick something. The chair in front of me slides back, but it doesn't tip over thankfully, although I kind of feel like trashing something right now.

"Are you his roommate?" I inquire. 

"I'm his boyfriend," The man responds, "Quinn." I feel like I've been shot after hearing the first sentence.

It's not that I didn't want him to move on. It's not that I expected him to just dwell over me for the entire year. 

I just didn't need to hear that right now.

It makes me feel irrational, the tears in my eyes don't belong there. I have no right to be upset. I've moved on too, haven't I? I have Connor. Even PJ. It's not like he had an obligation to me anymore. We haven't spoken in a year. We were over as soon as that car crashed. We were over when I forgot he even existed.

Yet I'm still crying. And Chris has his arms around me, as if he knows what's being said. As if he understands. 

"Hello?" Quinn says. I realize I've tuned out again. 

"Just tell him I called please," I mumble before hanging up. I slam the phone back on the table and wipe my eyes. Chris's arms stay around me, gently holding me as I continue to sob.

"Boyfriend," Chris sighs, "Doesn't mean shit Dan." But it does. 

"He's not home," I sob, "I have to call back. I don't think I can wait though. I think maybe I should just go." The idea should excite me, but I know I'll have to see this Quinn too, and that's hardly brilliant news. I'm pleased Phil has somebody else, but I'm kind of afraid it will change how much he wants to see me. Maybe he isn't in love with me anymore. Maybe he doesn't care to see me anymore. He hasn't mentioned me, so that would make sense.

"Are you just going to turn up?" Chris asks. I shrug. That's probably easier - they can hardly turn me away at their doorstep, and I doubt Phil would just slam the door in my face. Though I don't know how I'll go about getting out of the house when I'm already in so much trouble. I'm out now, but I don't have all night to kill running around London. In fact, I need to be heading home pretty soon. My parents will be suspicious enough as it is. 

"I think so," I say, "Maybe not tonight though. And he isn't home anyway." 

"Maybe wait until Saturday," Chris suggests, "Go up and spend the day, maybe?" 

"Maybe," I reply, monotonously. 

"Let me know what you decide, yeah?" He says. I nod, staring down at the floor. Chris pats me before letting me go from the embrace. I feel less comforted when he's gone, like I'm somehow more vulnerable without someone there to tell me I'm alright. 

It doesn't matter that Phil has someone else. That's what I need to keep reminding myself.

"Did he pick up?" Martyn calls, before walking back in. I don't even look up at him. 

"No," Chris says for me, "It was his room mate." 

"Boyfriend," I correct him. I hear Martyn sigh. 

"You know where he is at least," He points out. I nod, though it doesn't really make me feel much better. I'm not sure what will, I'm just being pathetic. 

"Do you think he'd be okay if I went to see him?" I ask, hoping Martyn has a better idea than I do. He simply shrugs. 

"Probably," He says, but I can tell he's uncertain. I guess that makes sense, I mean, how would he know? They haven't seen each other in years, Martyn probably still remembers Phil as an annoying preteen, not a fully grown man with a mind of his own. "So are you two heading home now?" I don't know if he's meaning to rush us out, but it sure sounds like he is.

"Yeah," I sigh, figuring I've done all I can here. "Can you write me the details for Phil down please?" 

"Of course," He says, rushing back out and then returning not three seconds later with a notepad and a pen. He scribbles something out then hands it to me. "Good luck, I guess."

"Right," I mumble, "Thank you." He shrugs like it's no big deal. It might not be, to him, but this is the world to me. This was a huge, life changing part of my life. I need to find Phil and I need to remember it. I don't think I can do the latter if I don't have Phil. 

"Nice to meet you," Chris says to him. Martyn nods and then motions towards the door. We exit out the back, Martyn right behind us. "Do you happen to know the way back to the station from here?" 

"It's like ten minutes in a car," Martyn replies, "Maybe half an hour if you're a quick walker." 

"That I am," Chris gets his phone out and taps out the directions that Martyn proceeds to give him. He hugs us both goodbye, and then Chris heads off. 

"How are you getting home?" Martyn asks me. I shrug. 

"I'll call a taxi," I conclude, figuring I have at least a few loose pounds in the bottom of my school bag. It should be enough to get me home.

"I can drive you," Martyn offers. I smile at him, grateful for the offer. It'll be quicker, at least, and saves me having to spend whatever change is in the bottom of my bag. 

"Are you sure?" I ask, "That would be great but-"

"I'm sure," He cuts in, chuckling, "It gets me off work for another twenty minutes. They won't mind, they think something bad has happened." 

"Something bad has happened," I say, raising my eyebrows. He nods.

"It's sad what happened to you both," He huffs. "I kind of want to talk to you about that too. I just didn't want to do it when your friend was there." That intrigues me. He goes off to get his keys, leaving me pondering what that conversation is possibly going to entail. 

By the time we've actually set off, I'm pretty much shaking with nerves. This has been a long day, to be fair, and I don't want to hear any more bad news if that's what this is going to be about. Still, it might be something else exciting, and I need to know for better or for worse.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" I ask him. I've given him the address and we're about five minutes into the journey. I can't wait any longer now, the possibilities are driving me insane. 

"I lied to you," Martyn admits. I gulp. "I mean, not completely, but I left something out. I just...you didn't seem to know. I didn't want to just blurt it if you didn't, and your friend...well, I just thought you should know first." So it's bad. How much worse can it get?

"Right," I mumble. Chris is right. I should expect the worst.

"You know, Phil mentioned you," Martyn continues, "When my mum called me about the crash, she told me that you'd been in it too. That was how I knew your name back there. Then, I was on the phone to Phil for about an hour and he just wouldn't shut up about you." It makes me want to cry again. I wonder what changed? Because he doesn't talk about me anymore. Not according to Quinn.

"Oh," I manage to croak out. I can hear my voice waver even within that single sound. I'll cry if I start to speak. I don't want to cry again.

"There's a reason, you know," He sighs, "Phil wanted to find you and talk to you. But he didn't, and that wasn't because he didn't want to, Dan. He wanted to find you. He'll be happy to see you." 

I sure fucking hope so. I wish I knew where this was going, because I have a dark feeling that I'm not going to like it. 

"Phil won't be like you remember though," Martyn says, his own voice beginning to falter. I feel my chest tighten at the thought. I want to ask in what way, but the words won't form, so Martyn keeps talking. "He was alright, at first, after the crash. They thought he was going to get better." He isn't better? 

What the fuck does that mean?

"He's coping though," He explains, "I mean, I assume. Obviously, if he has this new boyfriend things must be looking up but..."

"But what?" I choke, rubbing at my eyes to try and push the tears back in. It doesn't work like that, so I let them fall shamelessly. It's too late anyway, Martyn knows I'm crying. He isn't judging me for it. I think he wants to cry too. Maybe he doesn't know Phil all that well, but they're still brothers, they still care about each other.

"He's paralyzed, Dan."


	22. It's Never Getting Better

I can't feel anything. 

My body hurts, as if I've been punched repeatedly in the stomach. My heart is swelling, in the worst way possible. I can't breath.

"Dan," Martyn says, his voice soft and sympathetic, "Dan are you okay?" No. Never.

Phil is paralyzed.

Phil is...

What does that even mean? What does it change? How? 

The sorrow doesn't subside, but curiosity creeps in. Once again, I'm left with questions. So many questions. It feels like I only ever have questions. Any answers I receive only ever seem to lead to more of those. It feels like a never ending cycle. Bad news after bad news after bad news, and every time I let myself believe maybe next something good will come up.

That has never been the case. 

What should have been the best news in the world was shattered just twenty minutes ago when I discovered Phil had moved on from me. And now this. 

How the fuck am I supposed to react? 

Words won't come out. I have too many. Instead I let the tears flow. They speak more than I could probably manage to, and Martyn seems to understand. He pulls up on the curb and pulls me into a hug. It's not very comforting, but I appreciate the attempt.

"I knew you wouldn't have known," He sighs. How was I supposed to know? Not even Chris knows - unless that's just another secret him and Cat are keeping from me. I wouldn't be surprised at this point. I must get lied to every fucking day. "I know it's hard to take in. That was why I never went to see him. He asked me not to come, didn't want me to see him like that. Mum was angry, but she understood." There's a few minutes of silence before I manage to speak up again. Martyn let me out of the hug, and now he's picking his nails, staring out down the darkening street.

"Did he not want me to see him like that?" I ask, my voice thick to the point where it's purely embarrassing. 

"Probably not," Martyn concludes, "He hated himself, Dan. Despised it." 

"Is it just his legs?" I quiz, "Can he not walk at all? Is it like, permanent?" I don't know if I exactly want to know the answers, but I have to. Bad answers are better than no answers.

"He's lost feeling in both of them," He explains, "Forever. It won't ever come back. The crash fucked up his spinal cord for good." I feel a wave of guilt hit me, though I can't be sure the crash was my fault. I wasn't even driving. Still, Phil's so much worse off than me. 

I lost something in that crash too, I lost my memory - Phil, Chris, Marcus and everyone else. I lose them. The difference? I got them back. I'm remembering, even though they said I never would. 

Phil won't ever get to walk again, and my heart is breaking for him.

"Fucked up his life," Martyn continues, "He got so depressed, Dan. Mum used to call me sobbing about how he kept threatening to drive himself into the road and-" He chokes up. I'm already crying, but if I weren't, that would have set me off too. Phil wanted to kill himself. My Phil. Phil...

I don't even want to think about that.

"Do you think he's okay now?" I ask, my voice monotonous despite how emotional I'm feeling.

"I think he's getting better," He says, "I don't think he'll ever be okay. But I don't know, I haven't even seen him and I-"

"You should," I suggest, "I am, and I could sure as hell use the company." I'll be less afraid alone. 

"I don't think that's for the best," Martyn says, "I mean, it's a nice idea and all, but I don't think it's a good one." 

"Why not?" Because I fucking do.

"Honestly," Martyn sighs, "I don't think I could handle seeing him like that. Not yet. And not with our family history. I think I need to clear the air before I roll up on his doorstep trying to play brother of the year." Maybe he has a point, but the idea of going alone scares me far more than I care to admit.

"Right," I mumble. "I get that." I just wish it were different.

"You should still go though," Martyn says, "It's worth a shot." He's completely right. I wouldn't dream of not turning up just because Phil can't walk anymore. It changes nothing. I still want to see him. I still want answers. Boyfriends and broken legs won't change how I feel. 

"I hope he's better," I whisper. Martyn nods, agreeing. 

"You'll find out when you go," He points out. I smile at the thought, but it's almost a sad smile. None of this is going as planned, I'm blaming my lack of excitement about all of this on that one simple fact. It's probably going to fall apart. The good things always do.

"I should try ringing again," I say, more as a mental note to myself than a statement to Martyn. He responds anyway.

"Not tonight though," He says, "Give it a day. Maybe this boyfriend will tell him you called." I hope he does, that would be nice of him, even though he has no idea who I am. I try not to think about the fact Phil never mentioned me. Maybe it was too painful for him to talk about, or is that a little conceited of me to think? Oh well, it's a realistic theory.

"Maybe," I agree. 

"Am I alright to set off again now?" He asks. I rub my eyes again and nod. I'm still not over the initial shock, hell, I don't even think the initial shock has set in just yet. I'm feeling a lot of things, but I'm not crying so bad anymore. The sooner I'm home, the sooner I can break down. 

"Yeah," I reply, wiping my hands on my jeans. Martyn starts the car up again and the conversation dies down until we get to my estate, where I have to give him directions to the correct street. 

I let him drop me off a few doors down, just to prevent my parents from seeing the car and asking questions. If I can say that I walked I have an excuse for being so much later than I should be. I unbuckle my seat belt and thank him for the lift.

"Wait," Martyn says, before I open the door. I turn back, curious, but he's holding his phone out to me. "Do you have the details?" 

"Yeah," I reassure him, "You gave me the paper, remember? I have it-" I'm about to get it out of my pocket, to prove it, but he stops me.

"I meant mine," He cuts in, "Just so that you can let me know how Phil is. I want to know how this turns out." That...well, it makes sense. We exchange numbers and I head off, thanking him another three times for good measure. Those two words don't begin to express my gratitude, but they'll do for now. I think he knows how much this means to me, if he didn't, I doubt he'd have helped me to the extent he did. 

When I walk through the front door, I'm fully prepared to be bombarded with questions from my parents. They're usually furious when I'm late, and I'm grounded so they're going to assume the worst. I dump my bag in the doorway and kick off my shoes. "Mum?" I call out, caught off guard by the rare silence in the house. Maybe they're upstairs.

"Daniel?" Mum responds. She's in the living room? "Come here." I know it's bad. I know it's bad because she's calling me Daniel, and she says it in a weird tone, almost like a warning. I knew it was going to be bad.

Just not that bad.

Connor is sat on the couch. My eyes are immediately drawn to him, but he's not smiling and neither am I, like we both want nothing more than to not be here. Of course, that's not helped by the fact his parents are sat at either side of him, glassy eyed and stoney faced.

I feel sick.

My own parents are sat on the other couch, staring at me with a look I can't quite identify. Almost concerned. Almost wary. 

I knew it was going to be bad, but this is the last thing I need. I've dealt with a lot today. I didn't want to deal with this. Hell, Connor has barely even crossed my mind today, and I'm still conflicted about how I feel about him after everything PJ told me the other night - not that I entirely believe him yet but...

"Are you alright?" Mum asks me. I nod, but I'm not. I feel sick.

Horrifically sick. 

And the room is spinning - it's not supposed to do that, is it? 

The dizziness is making my stomach worse, and the dull throbbing begins in my forehead. I know what's coming, at the most inconvenient of times, but maybe it's better than dealing with whatever conversation was happening in this living room.

I don't know. Neither option sounds good.

I feel sick. Dizzy, sick, and tired.

My head hurts. 

"Dan?" It's not Mum's voice this time. "Dan!" A different voice! I reach out, as if trying to grab the voice, but I stumble and fall.

I pass out before I've even hit the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!!! I'm so sorry that updates are slower at the minute, I've got a lot going on in my personal life so I have less time to just write. I'm annoyed about that too.  
> But anyway, I hope you're all enjoying this (as dark as it is) and I really loved reading all your comments! Keep 'em coming! Thank you so much for reading/voting/commenting, it means the world!!!


	23. Because Could It Get Much Worse?

_"I don't know if it's a good idea," Phil sighs, but he keeps his head buried in my shoulder and his legs around my body. I'm scared too, and I can't exactly defend my idea, but I'm hoping for the best. This has to happen eventually._

_"We'll find out then, won't we?" I say, pressing a kiss against his temple. He smiles into it, but I can tell he's still nervous. I am too, but one of us has to have some courage here, and I can tell that this time, it won't be him. It's my place to be anyway, if I'm ever going to stand up and say something then this is it. I think I'm ready for whatever outcome this is going to have._

_"We haven't even thought it through, Dan," Phil groans, "I mean, what if they kick you out or something? Then what? It's not like-"_

_"I'll go to Chris's," I shrug, like it's no big deal. I know it isn't that simple, but I'm also hoping that my parents won't react that badly. I think they're expecting it now, especially from the way I've been talking about Phil recently. If they're shocked, I will be too._

_"Dan," Phil says, "I'm being serious. Can we just talk about this because-"_

_"Dan!" It's my mum. They're home. They're here. This is happening._

_Phil tries to take his arms from around me, but I cling to him and he stops resisting, instead burying his head into my neck._

_"I have to," I whisper to him, as we hear my mums foot steps getting closer. He nods._

_"You're an idiot," He mumbles. I know he's right. Maybe this is the most idiotic thing I'll ever do, but right now it feels right. It's what I want. I want everyone to know who I am._

_But mostly, I want them to know who I'm in love with._

_And he wants that too, deep down. We're just scared. And we have a right to be._

_"Dan!" My mum repeats. My stomach is twisting in ways I've never felt it before, but I keep telling myself this is for the best. This has to happen. I can't regret this moment, I refuse._

_My door opens, and I smile at her. I feel Phil's breath on my neck, but he turns his head away to face my mum, smiling at her too, leaving his arms draped around me. Mums face turns from pure confusion to pure disapproval. I haven't even said it yet, but I know I still have to. I need to do this. Regardless of how she reacts._

_"This is Phil," I say. Mum continues to stare, something between anger and pain in her expression. "My boyfriend."_

_"Hi," Phil mumbles. I look at him, finding it easier to break eye contact with my mum completely. Phil is bright red, I imagine I'm a similar shade. "Nice to meet you, finally."_

_"Daniel," Mum whispers, looking from Phil then back to me, "When your friend leaves, we need to have to have a talk." I want to interrupt, protest, but she doesn't stop long enough for me to say anything. "Now, your father and I are going to go for dinner. I've left you money on the side for a pizza. Your friend needs to leave before we get home." She's not saying anything awful, not like I had expected, but the tone of her voice tells me that it's coming. She has awful things to say, just not in front of Phil._

_I know she's probably freaking out right now, but not as much as me._

_I said I wouldn't regret it._

_I'm already starting to prove myself wrong._

_"Alright," I mumble, trying to hide the crack in my voice. She forces a smile, so obviously fake, and then walks out, slamming my bedroom door shut behind her. She calls my dads name, and we wait in silence, still holding each other, for the front door to slam shut again._

_"That went better than expected," Phil says, pulling my closer. I shuffle up, curling my legs around him. I feel like crying, but the tears won't come for some reason._

_"Did it?" I scoff, shaking my head. It could have gone worse, but it didn't go as well as I'd hoped. I shouldn't have been so optimistic about the reaction, it's only left me disappointed. Phil was more negative about the whole thing, so I suppose his relief isn't exactly misplaced._

_"I don't know what you wanted them to do Danny," Phil huffs, "I mean, you knew it wasn't going to be good. I don't know why you felt the need to tell them right n-"_

_"Because unlike you," I cut in, snappier than I intended, "I don't want to keep lying to my parents about who I am."_

_"I don't want to lie," Phil counters, defensively, "I just know that lying is safer than telling them the truth. Sometimes you have to play it safe, Dan." I know he's right. I just hate that he's right. Phil shouldn't have to lie about who he is, nor should I or anyone else. It's just the way the world works, and I shouldn't take my hate of that out on Phil. This isn't his fault. It's not anyone's fault. It's just the way things are, and that kind of kills me a little bit inside._

_"We shouldn't have to," I protest, entwining our fingers. He nods, his head still resting on my shoulder. "We really shouldn't have to."_

_"I know," Phil sighs, "But there isn't much we can do about it Dan. You can tell your parents, that's fine, but if mine find out then we can kiss our plan goodbye." I groan into his hair, then plant a kiss on his head. I'm almost angry that he's right. We can't fuck this up anymore._

_My parents wouldn't do much, I always kind of knew that, maybe they're just going to hate me. I can live with that. From what Phil has said, it's a completely different story with his family. They're incredibly conservative. So much so, that his brother ran away. Phil once told me that he got in trouble for watching Brokeback Mountain because it was about a gay couple, and his parents would change channel every time a gay person came on TV. I can't imagine living like that._

_"They can't stop us," I say, but I know I'm wrong. They can stop us, and they probably would. Phil does everything they tell him to. They treat him like he's five, even though legally he can do whatever the fuck he wants now. "And not when you're off to uni."_

_"If I even go," Phil mumbles. I squeeze his hand. "I'll probably end up staying here forever, Dan. I'll rot away-"_

_"Not if we do what we said we would," I cut in, smiling at him, "Because nobody can really stop us, Phil. Not even your parents." Again, I'm wrong. They shouldn't be able to, but Phil loves them too much to ever really defend himself. He can't stand up to them, therefore they can stop us. It shouldn't be that way, but it is. What can anyone do about it? It's just another unchanging truth that I'm learning to live with._

_"It won't sink in," Phil says. I frown._

_"What won't?" I ask._

_"That one day, they're going to disown me," Phil explains, "They'll hate me more than Martyn. They'll despise me so much. And I'll have to leave and they'll be part of my past and I won't see them again. Because that's going to happen, isn't it? It's inevitable. But it wont' sink in. I keep thinking maybe I can change their mind, but I can't, and that won't set in. I don't want it to. I don't want to lose them, but I have to."_

_My heart breaks for him. It makes me feel almost grateful for my considerably less ignorant parents. I wish I could help, but there's nothing that I can do or say that's going to change the situation, and there isn't a way to make something like that easier. It's never easy. You can't just let someone go like that, you can't just cut people off. It's hard, so fucking hard._

_"If you lose them," I tell him, "I need you to understand that it was never your fault. You've done nothing wrong. If you lose them, it's on them. Their ignorance killed your relationship with them, not your sexuality. You can be upset, you can be angry. You can feel whatever you want to feel about it, but please don't ever feel guilty."_

_He's crying. He's crying like I've never seen him cry before. Sobbing, big deep breaths and loud gasps for air. The tears are forming a stream down his cheeks, and he's pulling away from me - sitting up and rubbing at his watery eyes. I reach up to him, and he lets me encase him in another hug. I press a kiss to the side of his head. I don't know what else to do. I don't think there is much I can do._

_"How do you do it?" He asks me, tightening his grip around my waist. "How can you just be so shameless of who you are? How do you not care that so many people despise everything you stand for?" I don't know. I wish I did._

_"I am ashamed Phil," I reply, blushing. Shame doesn't feel quite like the right word. I don't feel shame, but something like that. Pity, maybe. Do I feel sorry for myself? I feel sorry for Phil. Life would be easier if we weren't the way we were. But we are, and there isn't anything we can about it. "I just know that shame won't change me. Nothing will. I have to suck it up and make the most of it. There's nothing wrong with us, Phil, there is nothing to be ashamed of." I think I need to hear that just as much as he does, even if it is coming from myself. Sometimes, you're the only one that can make yourself understand._

_"I just don't want people to hate me," Phil sobs, "Especially not my parents."_

_"Don't you hate them?" I ask. Sometimes, I hate mine. I love them, and I'm grateful for everything they've done for me, but I hate how they think. I hate how they treat me sometimes. I hate how they refuse to listen and learn. I hate how they're going to despise the fact I'm gay. There's a hell of a lot to hate about them._

_"I don't know how to hate them," He says, "I can't. They're my parents."_

_"And they've fucked you up," I sneer, cupping his face with my hands. He shuts his eyes and shakes his head, then nods. "You shouldn't feel the need to love someone who's made you hate yourself, babe. You don't owe them shit if they're not willing to love you for who you are. No parents should make their child feel like..." I can't finish the sentence. I'm not entirely sure which word to go with, but Phil seems to understand. He opens his eyes and puts his hands over mine, forcing a smile despite the tears still dripping down his face. I wish I was enough to stop them._

_I never will be._

_Maybe that's okay._

_"You're going to be an amazing parent one day," He whispers. I smile at him._

_"Isn't that part of the plan?" I ask. He nods, still smiling. I lean in, still gripping his face, and soon enough we're kissing again. It feels like it always does, fucking amazing. Me and Phil, in our own happy little bubble. Nothing else seems to matter anymore, not when we're like this._

_"I love you Danny," Phil says, pulling away for a split second before kissing me softly again. I break off again, smiling from ear to ear._

_"I love you too."_

-

"What the fuck?" Mum is screaming. The room is spinning and it takes all of my effort to lift my head from the ground. 

Oh fuck.

Oh fuck. Fuck. Fuck

Fuck.

No.

"Dan!" I look around.

Connor is gone. His parents are too. I'm laid on the floor, the same place where I passed out. 

Another flashback. 

Another memory regained. 

It makes my heart curl up. We were so in love. So very in love. The ghost of his hands on my face, in my hair, around me, makes me want to cry. I put a hand on my cheek only to realize that I already am. And the sweat too. There's that.

"What the heck happened?" Mum asks, putting her hand on my chest. My heart is pounding so much, mostly out of worry, partly out of pain. 

I miss him. I miss him so much.

I wonder what our plan was. What did we want? Why did it have to fall apart? Phil didn't deserve that. Did I? Did we?

I can't accept the idea that we weren't supposed to be. That's not true, or right, or fair. We were split. Now we aren't, because I've found him and I need to see him. I need to know our plan. I need to know where we were going. I need to know if he still thinks about me. If he knows how fucking sorry I am that I forgot-

"Daniel!" Mum is screaming now. I look up at her, acknowledging her for the first time since waking up. Dad is stood behind her, frowning at me. 

"I remember," I say, quietly. "I told you. I remember now." 

"You remember what?" Mum asks. I sit up, pushing myself up against the wall. Mum is crouched at my level, looking me up at down with such concern. 

"Telling you," I mumble, rubbing my head. I'm not tired. Not a single bit. I'm just confused. My mind is overloaded with questions. I need answers and I need them now. 

"You had a flashback?" Mum gasps. I nod, half shocked that she's actually accepting the idea. She doesn't usually accept the things I say at first, and never the things that matter. "Daniel..." 

"Why was Connor here?" I ask, scrambling up off of the floor.

"Does that happen a lot?" Dad questions, ignoring me. 

"No," I mutter, "Why was Connor here?" 

"Are you still taking your medication?" Dad continues, sitting back down on the couch. I glare at him. Mum sighs and puts a hand on my forehead. 

"Why was Connor here?" I repeat, louder. Mum is staring down at the floor. I step back from her and she looks back up at me, then back to Dad.

"His parents fetched him," Mum explains, "Just so that they didn't have to leave him in the house alone. They wanted to talk to us about your relationship." My stomach twists. I wonder what he's told them - if he's told them anything. 

"What did they say?" I ask, wondering if I actually want to know. Ignorance is bliss, after all.

"They think it's best if you never see each other again," Mum says. I can hear the crack in her voice.

Guilt. 

She feels guilty.

And so she fucking should. 

"They're going to move him to a different school," She continues, "They asked if we could ensure you deleted and blocked his number and that you don't contact him again on any social media - as if you had it. Then they made Connor apologize to me and your father-"

"For what?" I sneer, "He didn't do anything wrong-"

"They don't see it that way," Dad cuts in, harshly. I pass another glare his way. This is his fault too. They ruined this for me. They ruined this for Connor. 

And I can't forgive them for that. It's just another thing to add to a seemingly endless list. 

"Do you?" I ask. They exchange glances. I know the answer, I just want to watch them lie to me again. Tell me they've changed, only for them to repeat the same homophobic charged actions. They don't want me seeing Connor. 

But just like with Phil, they can't fucking stop me. And they won't.

"Daniel..." Mum's voice trails off, and that alone tells me the answer. At least she didn't try to lie. There's that.

"Go to fucking hell," I snap, storming out before adding, "I'll see you there." 

They don't follow me when I march up to my room. Not even to ask questions about me fainting. They don't grill me on what I remembered. They just leave me, and in a way, that's the best I could have asked from them at that moment. 

I fall to sleep.

It lacks an exciting memory, just another pointless conversation with someone who no longer matters.

The following morning, I set off to school before PJ comes round for me. I don't want to see him. I don't want to talk to him. Not today, and not ever.

Because this is his fault too. 

I have so much anger and hate within me, all boiling up. It's easy to direct it at him. He's the reason we got caught out. He's the one that made me doubt Connor. If he hadn't lied, I would never have ignored Connor, Connor would never have come round to my house to say sorry and we would never have gotten caught kissing.

He flicked the domino. He caused this.

When I get to school, the yard is pretty much empty. I'm early, but Freddy is too. I see him straight away, sat on the steps in front of one of the many unused front doors. I go over to him, trying to hide how much I want to scream and cry and punch something. He looks distressed too though, his eyebrows crinkled and eyes watery. 

"Have you heard?" He calls to me as I'm approaching.

"Heard what?" I ask. I probably have. If not, it's just more bad news. I can probably handle that, by now, I almost expect it. 

"Connor's moving schools," He says, his voice wavering. I nod, gulping. I cried about it last night - though I cried about everything last night. 

I won't right now. Not again. 

"Do you know why?" I ask him, sitting down beside him on the step. He nods slowly. Of course he knows. He always has. 

"He's gay," He whispers. I nod, my forehead crinkling. "With you." The addition makes my stomach churn, but I don't deny it.

"Does everyone know?" I can't handle that. Or maybe I can. I won't have a choice really, but it will be much harder alone. 

"Just me," He mumbles, "He told me." 

"I thought you didn't talk anymore," I say, recalling how they ended. I still feel bad thinking about that, how awful it must have been - for the both of them really. Connor is still upset by it, although he always tries to hide it.

"He rang me last night," Freddy explains, "He said that he was sorry for the way things were between us, and that if he never saw me again he wanted me to know that he still cared and-" Now Freddy is crying too. 

I want to join him, but I hold back, shutting my eyes and forcing back the feeling. I can't cry again.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, unsure of anything else I can say. "I know you two were a thing." 

"I was such a prick," He sobs, "I don't even know why. I just hated that Mack knew. I didn't want anyone to know. I thought if we still hung out, people would start to suspect. I was so afraid of that." That's completely understandable, given the current situation we're in. People can be scary. 

"Nobody else has to know," I say, "Connor wouldn't want that either." 

"People do know about him," Freddy says, "He's got with a few other lads in our year. It's just a down low thing. A stupid rumor." 

"Let it stay that way," I sigh. I don't even care that he lied to me about being with other people. It doesn't seem to matter anymore. I'm more concerned with the fact that I may not see him again for a while. How are we going to get in contact?

"People will want to know why he's gone," Freddy points out, "We can't just say we don't know. Why wouldn't we know?" 

"Tell them he's moved house," I suggest, it's the first thing that comes to mind.

"People live near him," Freddy counters, "They'd know we were lying sooner or later." 

"I don't know then," I sigh, and to be honest, it's not my biggest issue right now. My main concern is seeing PJ. I don't know how I'm going to handle that, because it's kind of fucking scary. I don't trust myself to not freak out. "Who knows about Connor? Like really, for sure, knows?" 

"Everyone he's got with," Freddy replies, "But they won't say a thing, they're all closeted too, for the most part. Then me and you-"

"PJ," I recall. Freddy nods.

"Probably Clarky," Freddy says. I shake my head. I'm actually pretty sure Clarky doesn't know. He seems so clueless to it all. That, or he's really good at acting. It's just not something Clarky would think though, not unless he was prompted to do so by something. He won't know, if he did, we all would. "Or not. Mack, obviously. Then Dana."

"Dana?" I question. He shrugs.

"She knows enough to fill in the blanks," He explains, "And she's not stupid. Yeah, Dana must know. I think he told Hilda too, but if Hilda knew then so would Nick, and Nick would tell everyone so-"

"Hilda won't know," I conclude. He shrugs. "I'm more concerned about how much they all know." Because if they know about me, I have another problem. If not, I don't really have to worry. 

"Too much," Freddy sighs. I can't argue with that, ideally these people would know nothing at all. Still, it's Connor's fault that they know - with the exception of Mackenzie - he told them all, one way or another. "I wonder how his parents found out." 

"My mum caught us kissing and rang his mum," I explain, cringing at the memory. It still makes my blood boil to think about. This is her fault. 

I thought I would keep that mentality, but I don't, because it isn't just her fault. It's really not, but this would have been a hell of a lot easier if it were.

Because despite the part everyone else played, deep down I know that this is just as much my fault. And I fucking despise that.


	24. Collateral Damage

PJ is the last of the group to arrive. He looks angry, even from a distance. I hope to God it isn't directed at me, because he has no fucking right. Still, it wouldn't at all be a surprise.

I don't stare as he walks over, instead making a point of turning my back to him and engaging in a half decent conversation with Mackenzie. She's only just found out about Connor and I can tell she's upset about it even though she's trying her best to mask that - forcing a smile and making small talk about school.

I'm stood with Sammy, Clarky, Nick and Mack, and I'm kind of glad that Freddy has gone out of the way. He went to his locker or something. 

"Why did you set off without me?" PJ asks, tapping my shoulder. Everyone else is frowning at me, probably wondering the same as PJ. I turn to face him with reluctance, but I'm trying to act as normal as possible. Maybe a confrontation isn't such a good idea when everyone else is around. There are things I need to say that can't be said around everyone. 

"I couldn't be bothered waiting," I lie, "Sorry." He frowns at me, seeing through my bullshit. I'm surprised he hasn't already realized why I'm so annoyed with him. I'm pretty sure he'll know that Connor is gone by now, but maybe not. I don't know how fast things spread around here.

"But I was on time," PJ says, "Why set off early?" 

"I was ready early," I shrug. PJ frowns at me, but drops the subject, instead joining the circle - standing between me and Mackenzie.

"Where's Connor?" PJ asks, "He can't still be sick, can he?"

"Probably late," Sammy says, though he also doesn't know about anything. I keep my mouth shut, my stomach twisting. I don't want to be the one to tell them. I don't want to talk about it at all. Mack does the same, making a point of pressing her lips together.

"Or skiving," Clarky says. Fuck.

I didn't realize he hadn't been told. 

I probably should have, considering he hasn't mentioned it all morning. It just never occurred to me - Clarky doesn't get told anything. Not even by Connor.

"I don't think so," Mack cuts in, quietly. The boys pull faces of disagreement and shrug. They believe they're right because they can't think of any other reason he wouldn't be here. The idea that he isn't coming back just wouldn't occur to them - and why would it? There's no explanation, which is precisely why we can't tell them just yet. People ask too many questions, they want to know why, and that's just something I'm not prepared to tell them yet. I don't think it's even my place to, it's not what Connor would want. 

"What do you think then?" Clarky snorts, rolling his eyes at her. Mack simply shrugs. I look at her, concern clear on my face. She must be on the same page as me about not telling them, but if one of us has to, I'd rather it be me. Unless she can come up with some genius excuse as to why Connor's parents have moved him schools, because I really can't think anything up, and neither can Freddy.

"I don't know," Mack sighs, looking down at the floor. 

"Wait, do you not know?" Nick asks. My head twists immediately to look at him, my stomach twisting. Mack looks at me, then back to Nick, her eyebrows knitted together in what can only be concern.

"Know what?" PJ asks, tilting his head as he looks at us all, almost suspicious. I can feel a fresh wave of anger burning up inside of me. This is his fault. He created this, and he's fucking clueless as to what he caused. Now he's going to know, and I'm not sure what that changes, but it changes something.

"What?" Clarky sneers, stepping forward. Nick stares at us all, eyebrows raised. I try my best to keep a poker face, and I notice Mack doing the same. He can't know that we already know - Nick would want to know why we haven't already told everyone else.

"He's moved to Parks," Nick exclaims, "Did he not tell you?" 

"Did he tell you?" I ask, before I can actually think that through.

"He told you?" Clarky gasps, glaring at me. I gulp.

"He's moved schools?" Sammy spits, stepping back and shaking his head. "What the fuck?" 

"Why?" PJ questions. I look to Nick for an answer, for both my own and PJ's question. I need to know how much Nick knows. If he knows about me, Freddy reckons everyone will. I can't deal with that.

"I don't know exactly," Nick replies, "I mean, he rang me last night and asked for Freddy's number. He was crying and everything, it was quite funny at first, I thought he was like having a break down, but then he wouldn't stop and I was like fuck, what's up, and he told me he was been moved because he's failing, but I think that's bullshit because he's not failing anything!" I gulp. I can feel my cheeks heating up, even though I'm actually relieved as fuck that he doesn't know.

"Why would he want to speak to Freddy?" Clarky asks, "I mean, they hate each other, don't they? Freddy said last week that Con was the biggest prick he'd ever met. Why the fuck would he tell Freddy that he was moving and not us?" Hearing Clarky sound so upset almost breaks my heart. He sounds genuinely gutted, and I don't blame him. If I remember right, I think they've been friends since primary school. For Connor to not tell him that he was leaving is kind of cruel.

"Did you know about this?" Nick asks, looking at me. I shake my head, but I fear my expression is giving it away. "What about you?" He says to Mack.

"He never said a word to me," She lies, biting her lip. Apparently, he rang her this morning and told her. She came to school all upset, asked me about it, then tried to put on a brave face. I'm kind of glad he told her. I can deal with Clarky being all devastated, but not Mackenzie too.

As for PJ, he has nobody to blame but himself. I refuse to feel bad for him.

"What a massive prick," Sammy snaps, "Why didn't he just message us or something? He can't just fuck off and not say anything!" Clarky's glasses are steaming up. I want to go over and hug him or something, but for some reason my feet remain stapled to the ground where I'm stood. 

"I can't believe it," PJ mumbles, shaking his head. How can this surprise him? He must know that the reason he gave Nick is bullshit. Nick is right, Connor wasn't failing anything. PJ knows that. 

"I wonder what he said to Freddy," Mack says, biting her lip. I shrug, though I already know. It's all so fucking sad, but right now, I'm feeling more sorry for Clarky than for myself.

"I might go and ask," Nick says, "He might have told Freddy something else. I'll let you know what he said." 

"I'll come with you," Sammy offers, "We've got English together anyway so I'll tag along." Nick nods, and they head off. There's a good few seconds of silence after that, now it's just the four of us.

Mack is staring at the floor like it's covered in shit, Clarky is trying to hold in his tears, and PJ is staring at me with the most concern I've ever seen in his eyes. He feels guilty, but that doesn't really matter. His guilt isn't going to be enough. He can't fix this, and I don't think anyone can. I push back the voice in my head telling me it's my fault. It's easier to blame PJ.

"Why didn't he tell us?" Clarky asks, his voice cracking. Mack puts an arm around him, but he shakes her off. I know he's not okay because that's so unlike him, he would never shake Mackenzie off, not usually. "Why the fuck-"

"He was probably just upset," Mack explains, "Maybe he thought that we'd freak out-"

"We were going to find out," Clarky snaps, "So don't give me that bullshit. Obviously we were going to be upset. He's been my best friend since I was five and he's moved fucking schools and I didn't even get a fucking phone call to explain why? Because that failing his lessons story is absolute horse shit. He's doing fine, so it's obviously something else-"

"And if he wanted us to know what that was then he'd tell us," I cut in, trying to defend Connor to some extent. This isn't his fault, and he doesn't deserve to be vilified for it. 

"Fuck off," Clarky groans, "That's bull and you know it. He can't just not tell us shit like this! And he wouldn't not tell us if it was something as stupid as that! I know everything about him!" I wish he knew how wrong he was, but at the same time, maybe it's better he doesn't. He'd only get more upset, because there's so fucking much that he doesn't know.

"Obviously not," PJ mutters, rolling his eyes. Clarky glares at him, but he's bright red and he doesn't vocally protest. 

"I need to ring him," Clarky says, getting his phone out of his bag. 

"He won't answer," Mack tells him, "His parents took his phone off of him. They're giving him a new one but it's going be a different number, and he won't have ours so-"

"I'll inbox him on facebook," Clarky shrugs, typing away on his phone. I bite my lip.

"He's not allowed on it anymore," Mack continues, "And they've grounded him until after our exams-"

"How the fuck do you know all of this?" PJ cuts in, glaring at her. Mack's eyes widen as she realizes what she's done. I bite my lip, worried for her. Hopefully she can bullshit her way through. 

"He told me," She says, somehow without stammering, "He never mentioned moving schools though. He just said he was in trouble." 

"And how did he tell you?" PJ quizzes, "If he can't call or-"

"He used his dad's phone," Mack snaps, smug. "Maybe he just rung the numbers he could remember." It would have been a very valid argument, but Nick told us that he asked for Freddy's number, so that kind of shits on the idea.

"Why didn't he ask for ours?" PJ continues to grill her, obviously certain she knows more. He's right to think so, but he's in no position to judge her morally - after all, this is mostly his fault. 

"Why would he want to speak to you?" I sneer at him, before I actually think it through. I know I shouldn't have said it, but I couldn't help myself. Mack and Clarky are staring from me and back to PJ, both equally as confused as each other, although Mackenzie should be able to work out what I mean. Maybe she's just playing along for the effect.

"What's that supposed to mean?" PJ gasps. It seems he's playing along too, acting dumb and naive. He knows exactly what I mean. He knows exactly what he's done.

"You should know," I spit, "Connor didn't want to talk to you. Why would he have?" 

"That wasn't my fault," PJ protests, "You know it! He did far worse than me, so don't act like he didn't deserve-"

"Am I missing something?" Clarky interrupts him, glaring at us both. I don't humor him with any reply, nor does PJ.

"He was less of a prick than you," I argue, although deep down I'm not entirely sure that's true. They were both pretty awful to each other. I just got caught up in the crossfire. Collateral damage. Maybe that's the explanation for this entire situation. It was all just collateral damage. But that idea doesn't give me any peace of mind. It just makes me angrier.

"He was awful to me," PJ says, "You can hardly say anything Dan! You were happy to believe me and play along. You were going to..." His voice trails off as he remembers where we are. We shouldn't have this fight here, but now it's started and I want it to finish. I can't stop myself now that I'm all fired up.

"What's happened?" Clarky shouts, shoving PJ. PJ continues to ignore him, barely even shifting from the gentle shove. Clarky looks so distressed, but I can't explain it. I can't, and PJ doesn't have the guts. 

"Nothing," Mack mumbles, but she's not even trying. Clarky looks at her with the most conflicted expression I've ever seen. He looks angry, but almost sympathetic, like he can't believe she was stupid enough to think he'd believe her. He shakes his head.

"You started all of this bullshit," I hiss to PJ, "Now look what's happened - Connor is gone. You've got me all to yourself! Are you fucking happy now? Because nobody else is!" PJ looks as if I've just slapped him. I look away to avoid having to acknowledge that, instead looking at Clarky. He's staring at us both, as if piecing it together in his head. He's heard enough to know. Mack is just staring at the ground, probably wondering how we got to this point. I wish I could figure that out myself.

"You think I wanted this?" PJ protests, "I...I didn't mean for this to happen Dan! Connor knew what he was doing! How can you fucking like him? He lied to you too, so don't act like I'm the only asshole here-" 

"You're pathetic," I snarl at him, stepping closer. He gulps, but he looks angry rather than intimidated, which wasn't what I intended.

"Chill out," Mack says, grabbing my arm. I shake her off and she sighs, going back to admiring the ground.

"Don't tell me to chill out," I grumble, rolling my eyes at her. She doesn't respond to me, and I didn't really expect her to. "You've fucked us all over PJ! Look what you fucking did - and you have the audacity to suggest he brought it on himself?" 

"I never said that," PJ yells, "I didn't know you were going to get caught, so don't act like it was what I set out to do! I feel bad enough Dan-"

"Get caught for what?" Clarky asks, "Is he in trouble for something serious?" His questions go over our heads. It's almost like he's not there, like this is only me and PJ. That's how it should be, but it's a bit late for that now. 

"Oh you feel bad?" I sneer, raising my eyebrows. "How the fuck do you think I feel? I'm the one not allowed to see my-"

"Dan!" Mackenzie yells, and I'm glad she cut in before I actually said the word. I was so close. I almost...

Oh, fuck. I almost outed us both. I can't do that. I need to calm down, Mack was right. PJ is bright red, staring at me with glassy eyes. Clarky keeps looking at the three of us, pure confusion on his face. He's trying to piece it together, and he probably already has. He just doesn't want to say it. He doesn't want to know and that's probably in everyone's best interest.

"Just fuck off PJ," I spit, backing away. "You're the one nobody wanted around." It's not true. I know it's not true. I wanted him around, before he lied to me. Everyone else wants him around. But Mack and Clarky don't rush to his defense, and none of their other friends are around to do so. 

"Dan," Clarky gasps, "What the fuck is going on? What are you two fucking screaming about? Because the last time I checked-"

"You've got no fucking clue," PJ says, "You see Dan, you weren't the only person Connor lied to. It's what he does best-"

"You don't get to talk about lying," I snort, raising my eyebrows at him. He smirks and I kind of want to smack him, but I refrain from doing so somehow. 

"Connor wouldn't lie to me," Clarky argues, "You're fucking demented-"

"He's lied to you for four years Will," PJ tells him, his voice lacking the softness it should have when breaking such news. Clarky looks like he's just been hit. He has, in a way. He's been stabbed in the back by his best friend, someone that doesn't even like him that much and...

The more I think about it, the more awful I feel.

Clarky fucking adores Connor. Connor is everything he wants to be, yet Connor just doesn't give a fuck. Never has. He lead Mackenzie on, let her believe she had a chance with him when he was never the slightest bit interested in her. He stabbed PJ in the back too, and he didn't even have the decency to talk to him about it. Now this has happened, and Connor didn't even think to give Clarky an explanation, not even a bullshit one. Clarky found out his best friend was leaving from someone that barely speaks to either of them. And now he's realized that Connor's got a shit load of secrets.

Yet here I am, screaming at PJ because he told me some bullshit I didn't want to hear two weeks ago. 

It all seems a bit much, really.

"You don't know him at all," PJ continues. Clarky is staring at the three of us, a mixture of fear and anger in his eyes. PJ is right, Clarky doesn't know Connor at all, and judging by his expression, I don't think he really wants to.

"What?" Clarky snaps, "And you do? He fucking hates you PJ-"

"He was hardly your biggest fan either," PJ protests, cutting him off - probably because he doesn't want to hear it. Does he need to? I mean, PJ should know that Connor didn't like him that much. People that like you don't try to get with the people you're crushing on. "He didn't even think to tell you he was leaving-"

"He didn't tell you either - you smug twat," Clarky points out, rolling his eyes. I can tell he's only getting more upset, but I feel like there isn't much I can do about it. This is Connor's fault. This was always going to happen, and he isn't around to stop it now. 

"But at least I know everything else," PJ says, "He didn't want you to know that, did he?" 

"Know what exactly?" Clarky asks, "Can you fucking stop speaking in riddles for one minute?" 

"I'm not speaking in riddles," PJ replies, "I'm just saying, Connor never wanted you to know who he was. At least I was smart enough to figure it out." 

"You didn't figure shit out," I sneer, "You just saw something self explanatory. He didn't want you to know either-" I can see Dana walking up to us, but I decide not to inform them that she's coming, too afraid it would make them shut up. Part of me doesn't want that, but I also think that they need to have this out. It's clearly been building up for months, years even, long before I came onto the scene.

"So the fucking new guy knows and I don't?" Clarky yells, gesturing towards PJ and Mack for some sort of answer, though they're not the ones he needs to be asking. Unfortunately, Connor isn't available for a Q&A. I try to let the 'new guy' comment slide, figuring he's just upset, and I am still kind of new. It's only December after all.

"He was the only one supposed to know," Mack says, "Can you fucking believe that?" Clarky glares at her, even though she's probably trying to side with him on this.

"Nah," PJ counters, "Freddy knows all about it too. And every other-"

"Don't do that," I snap, "Don't fucking do that-" 

"Who shit in your cereal Danny?" Dana calls, sliding into our circle. I can't bring myself to crack her a smile or reassure her that we're all fine and that I'm not mad.

"Did you know about this?" Clarky asks her, his voice cracking once again. I hate that. I despise that sound. "Because every other fucker seems to?" 

"Know what?" Dana asks, clearly clueless.

"Connor moved schools," Mackenzie explains, "He only told a few select people and-"

"You're fucking kidding?" Dana gasps, "Why?" 

"These two fuckers seem to know," Clarky spits, gesturing to me and PJ. I look to PJ, a firm glare, trying to warn him to keep his mouth shut without using actual words. He returns the look, and I take that as his acknowledgement. "Ask them!" 

"I missed a fucking storm didn't I?" Dana snorts, "So what's the crack? Why's he suddenly up and left?" 

"He's failing," I lie, shrugging. Dana pulls a face and Clarky lets out a loud laugh that lacks any sort of humor.

"And you called PJ a liar," Clarky hisses at me. I sigh and nibble my lip. I can't exactly fight him on that, can I? I have just lied, but it the lie Connor told, I simply repeated it. 

"Connor's the one who lied," PJ snaps, "He's the one that stabbed me in the back." Dana raises her eyebrows. She's usually so light-hearted and funny, but she looks genuinely concerned for once. 

"So stop taking it out on us," I protest, "You fucked up too-"

"He started it," PJ retorts.

"You sound like ten year olds," Dana shouts, stepping in between us. I step back, though I was hardly squared up to him anyway. We were barely yelling, that would bring about too much attention. "Now what the fuck happened?"

"I can't tell you," I sigh, giving in. "I'm sorry, I can't-"

"So something did happen," Clarky groans, half triumphant, half annoyed. 

"Did we not establish that about ten minutes ago?" PJ mutters, flashing dagger eyes in Clarky's direction. 

"Fucking tell me," Clarky pleads, grabbing my shoulder, "Dan please-"

"I can't," I repeat, shrugging him off. He looks at me with desperation.

"You, of all people, should know what it feels like to not know about the things that matter," He says, the most serious tone I've heard him use. I look at Clarky, pity probably obvious across my face, but I can't bring myself to tell him, not even now.

"Ask PJ," I sigh, "He's the one who ended up heart broken." And I can't anymore. I give them one last look, a look I can't quite figure out the meaning behind, before I walk away. I'm barely three meters away when I realize everyone has started heading to lesson. I don't turn back though, which definitely earns me a couple of weird looks. I didn't plan on skipping, but I can't face an hour of maths with anyone right now. I can't handle the questions, because that there will be. It's unavoidable.

I'm just outside the school gate when I hear someone shout my name. I turn back around. It's Clarky, and I'm not surprised.

"Did he tell you?" I ask even though I know the answer. PJ won't have told him. He wouldn't crack that easily. Clarky shakes his head.

"I feel like a fucking idiot Dan," He spits, but I don't think it's me that he's angry at. I don't think that at all. "He was supposed to be my best friend, and I feel like I don't even know him." I can relate to that. So fucking much.

"Maybe you wouldn't like him," I say, figuring Connor is kind of an asshole. That's not something I can deny, as much as I like him. "He's not as brilliant as you think." 

"You still like him," Clarky points out. I don't deny that either. 

"That's different," I shrug. Clarky nods, but I'm not sure he understands fully. 

"You don't like PJ, do you?" He asks. I shrug. I want to say no, I hate him, but part of me isn't capable of hating him. I don't hate him. I kind of pity him, really. 

"I don't know," I mumble, "I'm mad at him."

"Is it his fault?" He inquires, "Because from the way you were talking, Con brought this on himself. I don't know, obviously, but..."

"No," I huff, "You don't know, Will. It's Connors place to tell you. Good luck getting the truth out of him." I continue walking, but Clarky just follows me. 

"Is it gay stuff?" Clarky asks. I bite my lip, refusing to even humor him with a response. Maybe that's the clearest reply in itself. "Because we all know about Peej. And if you fancy Connor I get it because-"

"Shut up," I snap, not wanting to hear it. I don't need to be patronized. Clarky sighs. 

"Everyone fancies Connor," He mutters. 

"Do you?" I ask. He laughs, a genuine laugh this time. 

"I'm not bent," He snorts. I laugh, not doubting him for a second. "Is he?" 

"Look-" 

"Fuck sake," Clarky spits, his tone changing again, "Were you two-"

"Will-" He's piecing it together. I don't know why I'm surprised, or so scared. But I am.

"Does everyone know?" He asks, stopping. I stop too, turning to face him. He looks like he's just been hit, and it's not the first time today I've seen him look so stunned. 

"It's not what you think," I begin, trying to think up some sort of explanation for this mess. I can't tell him the truth without further upsetting him, but I may have to. There's no other way around this, I can't keep lying. If I did, I'd be just as bad as PJ and Connor. Will Clark deserves better.

"It's not fucking fair," Clarky cries out, kicking the wall before sitting down on the pavement. I sit beside him, hesitant at first. "I've trusted him with everything, Dan! Every fucking secret! I told him when I was crushing on Mack. I told him that I got a boner at Hilda's fourteenth birthday party, and I told him when my granddad got arrested for assault - do you know how embarrassing that is?" I gulp.

"No," I mumble.

"I told him everything," He continues, beginning to sob, "He was my best fucking friend. And I was never his, was I? I'm used to girls not liking me back, but not my best friends." I feel like crying with him, to be honest. 

"He does like you," I say, but even I can't promise that. I was never sure that Connor liked him, and now Clarky is doubting that himself, probably for the first time in his life.

"Nah," Clarky sighs, taking his glasses off and wiping his eyes. He looks older without his glasses, and I've never seen him like that before - almost mature. "None of them do. I'm not stupid Dan. I know." 

"Oh." It's not the best response in the world, but it's all my brain can come up with.

"They have parties without me," He says. I didn't know he knew about those, and that makes me feel a little guilty. "They go on video games together every night, and press the appear offline buttons so they don't have to invite me into the games. They had a full group chat without me in year ten. I knew none of them liked me. But not Connor." 

"He has to like you," I reassure him. It's a poor effort, but at least I'm trying. "You've known each other forever." 

"He doesn't like me enough to tell me something like that," Clarky huffs. I can't argue with that, can I?

"People keep secrets for a lot of reasons," I say. He shakes his head.

"Everyone else seems to know," Clarky sobs, his voice breaking as he says it out loud, "Everyone but me. Stupid fucking Clarky, always the last to know. They think I'm a fucking spazz, but I'm not as daft as they think, Dan. I'm really not." 

"I believe you," I mumble to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. He continues to cry, and I have no idea what to do. 

I guess I'm no better than any of the others in that way - I never thought Clarky had feelings like this. I never stopped to consider that. You just don't expect people to break down, sometimes, but everyone breaks down eventually, even the ones that seem incapable.

"You're lucky Dan," Clarky sighs, "I'd be fucking overjoyed to forget this year." 

"You don't mean that," I mumble, though part of me wonders if he does. 

"Would you change it?" He asks, suddenly, "If you could go back, not forget, and never come here, is that what you'd want?" 

I think about it.

If I hadn't forgot, I'd still have lost Phil. He'd still have moved away, regardless. Maybe I'd have found him, but maybe not. He's got someone else anyway, maybe he's happier now, with him. I'd have never reconnected with PJ, never known how he felt. Never met Connor, never started up such a disastrous relationship, but that was the trigger behind all of this. Me and Connor. It could never have ended well. 

"I don't know," I conclude, "Things would have been shit either way." Clarky nods.

"Everything happens for a reason," He adds. I nod. I've never heard him say something wise before. Then again, I've never seen him cry before. There's a lot to Clarky I've never seen. There's probably a lot more to him than anyone sees. 

"I think PJ is wrong," I tell him. Clarky frowns. "I think you do know Connor. I think you know him better than anyone, and maybe that's why he didn't ever want to tell you. He was afraid of that, maybe. I think, if anything, he's the one that doesn't know you. And you know what, Will? That's his fucking loss." 

And he does the last thing I expected him to do.

He smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the slurs didn't bother any of you? I don't like writing them but these are teenage boys, so let's be real they're going to use some slurs (they weren't built on tumblr sadly). But I hope you enjoyed it, despite the lack of phan (also sorry about that, plot and character building) in this chapter, but it's getting there. Step by step. Your comments are great by the way, I love reading through them all! Your support means the world so I'm sorry I'm so slow with updating. I don't want to set a schedule in stone, but if you want some sort of time idea, I'd say this is going to be updated once a week (Sundays?). Also, just out of curiosity, I'm writing another phan story and it's much more angsty than this but it's a very similar style (still features flashbacks!) so if I were to publish it on here would anyone be interested in reading it?


	25. Everything Happens For A Reason

I decide to give school a miss today. Clarky heads back, reluctantly. I can't bring myself to do that yet. He promised he wouldn't say anything. I believe him. 

The walk home is cold and boring, my mind focusing on anything but the weight on my shoulders. There's so much I need to think about, but none of it is what I want to think about. Ideally, I'd be thinking about how incredible it's going to be finally seeing Phil again, but after finding out everything I have, even that fantasy is ruined for me.

It feels as if every aspect of my life is awful. Anything that pops into mind reminding me of something else that's fucked up, something else that just won't go to plan. Maybe I'm being over dramatic, but the empty pain in my gut suggests otherwise. 

There are very few pains harder to handle than the realization that things can't ever be the way you want. Helplessness is devastating. Nobody should feel as if they have no control over what's going on in there life.

Yet here we all are, watching as things spiral out of control. Nobody can do anything to help, not in any area of my life - past or present. Phil is trying to move on, and I can't stop that, nor can anybody else. Connor has gone, and I can't make him come back, nor can anybody else. It's the same in every scenario. Things are out of my hands, and it's fucking terrible.

Then again, when I was holding all the cards, things still weren't great. I was building up to this. I took the bait on the fishing hook and now I'm mad that I'm being pulled out of the water. 

"Daniel?" I slam the front door, alerting my mother that I'm home. "Dan what are you-"

"I feel sick," I call, running upstairs before she can stop me. It's a lie, of sorts. I feel something, but not sickness. Sick, definitely, but not that kind.

I flop down on my bed, almost expecting the tears to start flowing again. I want to cry, and I want to scream, but I don't want to make too much noise - instead I simply pound my fists down into the bed repeatedly. It's not as effective as screaming, but it's quieter. 

I half expect my mum to come rushing up to see what's wrong with me, but I'm not exactly surprised or disappointed when five minutes later she still hasn't checked on me. I sit up again, rubbing my eyes and then loading up my old phone. It comforts me, especially since my parents took my phone away as punishment for going to Manchester the other day. 

I load it up and flick through the photos, which is mostly what I do with the phone. Messages never send, and I didn't have any apps of good use to me now, just stupid mini games and photo editing stuff. 

The photos are weird to look at though, even after seeing them so many times, it's like looking at a different person, almost as if I've got a twin I know nothing about. I know it's me, I just can't feel it because I can't remember. The ones of me and Phil hurt the most, making my heart swell and twist in the worst way. It makes me wish I could remember even more, and the frustration that comes along with that is almost unbearable.

There's one photo that gets me every time, like each time I scroll past it feels as if I've been smacked. Half of me wants to cry, half of me is grinning from ear to ear. It's of Phil and I, but someone else took it. I'm sat on his lap, curled up like a child and he has both arms around me, grinning with his head pressed into my chest. I've got one hand holding his head and the other on his shoulder, my smile is probably the biggest I've ever seen it. I'd love to know the story behind that - where we were, who took the photo, what was even happening? 

"Dan?" Mum calls, making me jump. I shove the phone under my pillow and turn round, trying to act natural. She opens my bedroom door slowly, smiling at me as she walks in. I make sure my expression remains blank, refusing to give her any sort of positive acknowledgement. "I'm going to the shop." 

"Have fun," I mutter, rolling onto my side. I hear her sigh.

"Do you want anything?" She asks. A few things spring to mind: an apology, my mobile phone back, some love, care and respect. Nothing huge. 

"No," I snap, "Goodbye." 

"There's some chicken in the fridge," She says, her tone softer, "Make yourself a sandwich if you get hungry. There's paracetamol in the pantry, but only take two-"

"Goodbye," I repeat it louder. She mumbles something under her breath, then slams my door shut. It sounds like a herd of elephants trampling down the stairs because she's marching with so much force. I find it almost amusing that she's the one upset with me, and for what? Interrupting her lecture on shit I already know? 

I wait until I hear the front door slam a few minutes later before I get my phone back from under the pillow, smiling at the photo again. I stare for another couple of minutes before putting it back away and changing into my pajamas- if you can even call them pajamas - I'm just in boxers and an old scraggy t-shirt. I get under the sheets and I'm pretty much out before my head has even touched the pillow.

-

_"Morning," Phil whispers. I groan, plowing my head back into the pillow. Who the fuck opens the curtains before eleven on a Sunday?_

_"What the fuck are you doing?" I grumble into the sheets. He chuckles and walks over to the bed, sitting on the side of it and ruffling my hair. I shield it with the covers, sticking my tongue out at him as he pulls his hand away._

_"I'm getting up," He shrugs._

_"Did you have to wake me up in the process?" I ask, raising an eyebrow._

_"I didn't have to," Phil says, "I just wanted to." He smiles and pokes my cheek. I move my face away and he giggles again. I try to hold back a smile, but I give in to it, grinning at him from ear to ear._

_"You could have at least left the curtains shut," I sigh, squinting as I look towards the window. The sky is still kind of dark actually, shifting between the dark blue and the dull early morning sky. "What time is it?"_

_"Six," Phil points to the clock hanging next to the door. I glare at it, as if that exact thing is responsible for waking me so early. Phil prods me again. "Do you want to go for a walk?"_

_"I'd rather drag my balls against smashed glass-" I begin, only half serious._

_"Dan!" Phil snorts, laughing at me. I grin back. "I'm serious, I want to go for a walk."_

_"Can't we just stay in bed and cuddle?" I suggest, much preferring the idea of staying in the warmth and comfort of Phil's bed. We've been spending an awful lot of time in it, not that I'm complaining._

_"Cuddle as in cuddle?" Phil says, "Or cuddle as in my head ends up between your legs and you-"_

_"Yes please," I cut in, smirking. He shuffles back to his side and crawls underneath the sheets again. I smile and turn to face him, wrapping my arms around his neck on instinct. He presses a kiss against my forehead, then my lips._

_"On second thought," He whispers, "I'd rather just stay like this." I slide one of my legs between his and kiss him again, harder._

_"What made you want to go on a walk anyway?" I ask, breaking the kiss and instead resting my head on his shoulder. He doesn't seem to mind, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. "Walking isn't exactly our number one hobby."_

_"I just woke up and it sounded really peaceful," Phil explains, "Like, it looks so calm and quiet and I don't know. It just seemed like a good idea, to actually leave the house at least once this week."_

_"Your parents come back tomorrow," I say, "We can go on plenty of walks when we don't have your house to ourselves." He giggles, snaking his other arm around my wait and gently kissing my neck._

_"You're just lazy," He mumbles between kisses. I smile fondly, nodding. He continues to plant kisses down my neck, soft and loving. There's a warmth in my stomach that I never want to go away. It's what he does to me, and I fucking hate that I love it so much._

_"My bad," I chuckle. "If we were to go on a walk though, where would we go?"_

_"I don't know," Phil replies, "I didn't actually think that far ahead." I laugh at him and he smirks, looking at me with a twinkle in his eye. I smile back up at him, hoping it tells him exactly what I'm far too afraid to._

_"Where do you want to go?" I ask him, tilting my head. His action mirrors mine, and he smiles softly._

_"Anywhere but here," He says. I stare at him for a minute, my expression blank, before I let out a small laugh._

_"How pop punk of you," I sneer. He smirks, shaking his head at me. "Seriously though, isn't there anywhere you want to see? Somewhere special?"_

_"I want to go to London someday," Phil sighs, "You're lucky, to have lived there." I've told him stories before, so many of them, all about the good times I've had there: the times my mum took me on the London Eye, the time me and this friend I had at school played truant and went up to see Buckingham Palace, the time me and this boy called PJ went bus hopping all day when we were like ten, and the time when I was fourteen and I snuck out at night with someone in my class to see Trafalgar Square at midnight - just for the sake of adventure. It was fun, sometimes. I haven't told Phil of all the bad times though, and there were a hell of a lot more of those._

_"It's not all it's cracked up to be," I tell him, running a hand down his back. Phil frowns at me. "Believe me, it's expensive and dirty and-"_

_"You're so negative though," Phil says, "And I find it hard to believe that it's any worse than Manchester. It's so scruffy here-"_

_"You've never even seen London," I argue, "It's not what you see on TV, trust me." He shakes his head, but he doesn't try to defend his point. I guess you can't destroy images that are inside peoples' heads, and that isn't what I really want to do anyway. If Phil wants to keep seeing London as some fairy tale city, then so be it. Maybe it will be kinder to Phil than it was to me._

_"What about you?" Phil asks, "Where would you want to go?" I think about it. I've always wanted to go somewhere abroad, like Paris or Rome. I reckon everywhere in the UK is a fucking mess - the same old litter covered streets, the same smashed up corner shops on every street corner, the same dirty rotting pubs in each town and city center and the same, miserable people everywhere you turn. England isn't the best setting for a fairy tale. Not mine, anyway._

_"Europe," I conclude, figuring at least it has character there, more so than here, or at least different to here. Maybe I'm wrong, it wouldn't be the first time, but I'd love to just see somewhere like Paris or Amsterdam, somewhere that feels light years away, so detached from everything I currently know._

_"That's not very specific."_

_"I'm not picky," I say, smiling at him._

_"Paris seems nice," He mumbles, shuffling under the sheets. I adjust with him, trying to stay comfortable whilst still wrapped up in him. "I'd go there."_

_"City of love," I whisper, then louder, "Oh, wait, no, is that Rome? No, wait is Rome the city of-"_

_"City of spaghetti," Phil cuts in, giggling at himself. I roll my eyes, but his low laugh is contagious, and dumb things are always funnier at six am._

_"I'd go there," I say, smirking. Phil laughs again, his head buried in the pillow._

_"We should do that some day," Phil mumbles, rolling over. I shuffle with him, trying to get him to leave his arms around me. It's comfier that way. "Just piss off to some random city."_

_"With what money?" I question, raising my eyebrows at his unrealistic idea. It's nice, but it's too nice. We can dream, but it won't happen, not yet anyway._

_"Fuck money," He shrugs, "Flights aren't that much if you get them at shit times, and I've got my card, and some money in the bank saved up from-"_

_"You're not serious?" I scoff, sitting up. He runs a hand down my side, tracing it gently as he composes his response. I stare down at him, waiting._

_"No," He says, "But maybe someday."_

_"When?" I ask, laying back down. His arm automatically falls around me, pulling me closer. I'm not complaining, instead smiling into the embrace._

_"Whenever you want," He whispers, then kisses my cheek. I close my eyes and turn my head so that we're kissing properly, and his arms close around my lower back. He tries to open up the kiss, but I pull away, as much as I'd love for things to escalate._

_"You don't mean that," I say, looking at him with a half serious smile. He frowns._

_"Yes I do," He argues, "I'd never lie to you." I frown back, but not because I don't trust him, just because I think he's being too..._

_Optimistic._

_That doesn't feel like the right word._

_"Yeah but you can't say that we could go whenever because we can't," I explain, "I know you're not lying, but like, it's unrealistic to say we can because we can't."_

_"Why not?" He asks. I sit up again, looking down at him with a confused stare. I can't figure out whether it's naivety, stupidity, or just optimism. I can't figure out which would be worse._

_"Parents," I begin listing, "Money, time-"_

_"Shh," He mumbles, giggling, "Technicalities." I force myself to laugh along._

_"I might have to take you up on the offer then," I say._

_"Say the word and off we go," He shrugs, as if it's so simple. We can dream._

_"I'll remember that."_

-

I wake up to the sound of a phone ringing. At first I'm disorientated, but it doesn't take long for me to collect my thoughts and jump out of bed, because I know exactly what phone that is.

It's mine - the one my parents took off of me. 

I race downstairs, to where I can hear the noise coming from, but before I've even hit the bottom step the sound cuts off. I sigh, sitting on the bottom step defeated.

I rub my eyes, trying to think about the flashback I just had. It seemed insignificant, like most of them, but there was a different air about it, and I feel as though I'm missing something. We were just talking and cuddling. Kissing. It was nice, but nothing out of the ordinary.

I decide to shrug the feeling off and make a mental note to record the memory down later. My dream journal is getting pretty full, but I'm not complaining - the more things that go in there, the more of my life I can remember.

I stand up and wonder into the kitchen, ready to get myself something to eat or drink. I'm not sure what, I'm just bored. Eating passes the time, but it doesn't change my train of thought.

I'm still a bit drowsy from my nap, but all I can think about is who called me. What if it was Connor? What if he needs me and I'm not picking up? What if it's Martyn or Chris or Cat? I hate not having my phone, purely for this reason. I can live without texting, I just hate the idea that people won't be able to reach me when they need me. 

I try to stay focused on making something to eat, deciding on a sandwich for the sake of ease.

I'm half way through buttering it when the phone rings again. It makes me jump and I drop the knife, but I leave it, more concerned with finding where the ringing is coming from. I can tell that it's in this room, it sounds so close. I shut my eyes, hoping it will help me figure out the direction, but it sounds the same. I resort to rummaging, opening every drawer and cupboard and hoping for the best. 

I realize the sound is louder at the other side, and I rush over, throwing open the top cupboard first. My phone falls out as soon as I swing the door open. I rush for it, a feeling of dread as I realize it's probably smashed, and a deeper dread when I realize that it's stopped ringing. Fuck. 

I pick it up, relieved to see that it's actually not smashed, just a chip in the corner that's barely visible. I sit down, leaning against the cabinets and unlocking the phone. I don't recognize the number that called, which sets an uncomfortable feeling in my stomach. It's not saved in my phone, so how do they have mine? I decide against calling it back, figuring that it's already called three times, so it's likely to ring again. 

There are some texts, mostly from Connor ranting about his parents, but nothing of grave importance. I go to text Connor back, but then I remember he's been made to block my number, so the message is left unsent. 

I stand up, sighing as I put my phone on the counter. I know I'll have to put it back before anyone else gets home, I'd get in even more trouble if they knew I had found it. 

I go back to making the sandwich, picking the knife up again when the sound of the ringtone blares. For the second time, I drop the knife and reach for the phone. I slide the bar and press the phone to my ear, my stomach twisting with both curiosity and fear. I hate not knowing who's on the other end.

"Hello?" I say, my voice wavering. 

"Is-is this Dan?" The voice hits me like a train. I feel something inside me drop as the sense of familiarity rushes over me. 

"Yes," I manage to croak, my breath speeding up. I can't. I want to hang up, throw the phone at the wall and scream, but the better part of me knows better. My hand remains glued to the phone, and I lean against the counter, awaiting some sort of reply. 

"Oh gosh," The voice mumbles. I hear them gulp, and wonder if they're just as scared as me. I've felt a lot of things in my life, a lot of confusing, conflicting emotions, but my mind right now is messier than it's ever been. I can't believe it. My mind can't process it, but I know, deep down, that this is real. It's happening. And I'm not nearly ready, yet I have to be, because I know exactly what's coming next.

"Um, Dan? It's uh, it's me. It's Phil."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update took longer, but you know shit happens, I hope you enjoyed it anyway! As always, thanks for your votes/comments/reads whatever! I genuinely love reading the comments, so thanks for making this all worth while!


	26. The Anti-Climax

My stomach is churning with fifty different emotions.

Phil.

My Phil.

He's there. Talking to me. Thinking of me. 

After all this time, I can finally talk to him again. That realization hits me like a train. 

I feel myself choking up, but I don't feel an ounce of shame when the tears begin falling. I'm allowed to be emotional. I'm allowed to be confused. I was in love with this man, and I haven't spoken to him in over a year, hell, I could barely even remember him to begin with. It's only over the past few months that it's all really come together, and even now my mind is still riddled with questions. Things only Phil can answer.

"Dan?" He says. I gulp, wondering how long I've been silent. I've hardly been keeping track of time, it was probably only a matter of seconds, but it felt like minutes and minutes that I was staring blankly across at the walls, tears falling down my face from a rare kind of joy.

"Phil?" I manage to croak, still barely believing this is real. "Is that really you?" 

"Yes," He chuckles, his voice as soft as I remember it to be, "Quinn told me that you'd called. I-I freaked the fuck out, made him call you back, but it was Martyn, he gave me your number. I...I hope that's okay-"

"It's fine," I assure him, "I-"

"Do you remember?" He asks, cutting me off - not that I at all mind. Phil must have as many questions as I do. "Do you remember me? Chris said that you didn't and I had no idea if that was ever going to change, I thought maybe you'd just move on and I couldn't cope Dan I thought you'd never remember-"

"I remember," I tell him. The thought of Phil, sat thinking I'd forgotten him makes my stomach churn in the worst way. I hate that he worried so much, but it also perks me up slightly knowing he still cares. I don't know why I ever doubted that. "It's so weird Phil, everything keeps coming back to me, but none of it's in the right order and none of it makes sense! There's so much I need to ask you." 

"I have a lot of questions too," Phil says, "Oh gosh, fuck, I don't know where to begin. Before I called there was so much I knew I wanted to say, I had everything planned and then I heard you speak and now I can't quite figure out what I should say."

"Can we meet?" I ask, "C-can I come round and see you?"

"Oh," Phil mumbles. I know what Martyn said, about him not wanting to see me. He doesn't want me to know he's in that state - I wonder if Phil is even aware that Martyn told me. It makes sense for him to fear my reaction, but surely he knows I'm not going to mind? We're both fucked up from the crash, even if his scars are physical, I'm not going to mind. "I don't know yet. Definitely one day. I mean, I don't know how soon but-"

"Why not?" I question, wondering if he'll tell me the truth or not. We didn't lie to each other, not from what I remember. Still, things change.

"I just..." He's thinking of something, clearly unsure on how or what to explain. Maybe there's more going on than I know. I shouldn't just assume it's because of his legs, not when I have no idea of other things going on in his life. "There's a lot that's happened, Dan. I think maybe, we should just talk for a while, make things normal again before we meet-"

"Things aren't going to be normal again," I sneer, "Not for me. Is this about Quinn because I know-"

"No," Phil insists, "Quinn has nothing to do with this. I'm sorry, am I snapping? It's just that a lot has changed and I'm excited that we can be back in each others lives, I just think it's something we need to slowly build up to, you know?" No. I don't really know at all. I don't get it.

But I don't question it. Not yet. Maybe he's right, and maybe it's not my place to start grilling him for answers about his personal life. After all, this is about the past, not the present. I need to figure that out first. 

So yeah, maybe he does have a point. I'll have to trust that logic until I have a reason not to.

"Right," I respond, just trying to be grateful that we're back in contact at all - regardless of whether that's just over the phone. "Could we skype or something maybe?" 

"Maybe," Phil says, "So, when did you start remembering?" 

"I've been remembering for a few months now," I explain, "It's like, whenever I go to sleep something comes back - kind of like a dream or a flashback, like I'm really there and it's happening again. Sometimes it's all irrelevant, but then the important things come back and it just confuses me. I've learnt so much but there are things my memories can't tell me, and I don't want to wait for the flashbacks to explain, you know?"

"D-did you remember about me and you then?" Phil asks, his voice softer, sounding almost amused that the thought. I smile, remembering the first time I noticed something weird with me and Phil, questioning it, then brushing it off.

"I remembered our second kiss before I remembered much else about you," I say, chuckling at the memory, before continuing, "I remembered us as friends first, and then the next thing I knew we were getting off in Chris's kitchen." He laughs too, obviously fond of the memory himself.

"That must've been a shock," He giggles. 

"It was a nice shock," I agree. I don't know what else to say after that, even though there's so much I need to, it's difficult to pick and chose what's right to talk about. 

"So..." He lets his voice trail off. I guess he's thinking the same as me, wondering where we should take the conversation. There's so much that needs to be said, that we need to talk to each other about and ask and answer and reflect on. "How did you find Martyn?"

"I didn't," I say. I guess this is a start, talking about Martyn. "I found Cat and Chris on facebook - and some of the others. I met up with them though, and we were wondering how we could find you - because they all miss you too - and Chris thought Martyn might know where you were. He found him, but I have no idea how." 

"Oh, wow," Phil whispers, then louder, "Are they all okay? Are- are you okay? Have I even asked you that?" He sounds rushed, almost like he's suddenly panicking. 

"I'm alright," I reassure him, although my own voice is shaky, mostly from nerves. "They all are. Marcus, Cassie, Cat, Chris, everyone. They're all good, they just miss you." I can't speak for them, but I don't think anything absolutely horrific has or is currently happening to them, at least not since the crash, so I think 'all good' is a fair statement. I'm open to be corrected. 

"You'll have to send them my number," He suggests. 

"They'd love that," I say, "I'll do that. I promise. Would your parents mind? I know they didn't want us to talk anymore-"

"They're not here," Phil cuts in, "And they don't get to say who I can and can't talk to anymore. They won't be happy about it, but if they don't find out then it'll be fine." It sounds like they're still controlling him. Maybe not as much, but he's obviously still afraid to stand up to them - not wanting to tell them that we're back in touch kind of shows that. If he really believed they didn't control him anymore, it wouldn't matter if they knew. 

"What would they do if they found out?" I ask. I hear him gulp and my gut fills with sympathy.

"I'm not sure," Phil mumbles. 

"Does Quinn mind?" I inquire, curious to really know his stance on the matter. It can't be something he's happy with - who really wants their boyfriend to get back in touch with their ex? Especially when said 'ex' is only an ex because of circumstance. Had the crash never happened, maybe we'd still have been together? I don't know that for sure because I can't remember how it all ended or how we were towards the end, but everything seemed okay from what I can remember. We were happy. We loved each other. It would have been enough.

"He thinks it's nice," Phil says, "Closure is probably going to be good for us both." I'm not sure what he means by 'closure' but I really hope we're on the same page about it. 

"Yeah," I huff, "I mean, I have so much to ask you." I sit down, leaning back against the cabinets just for a change of position. 

"You can start," He assures me, "I don't mind. You deserve to know." I want to cry again, just from hearing that sentence alone. It's like a new door has been opened for me, and everything will change once I step through it. I can finally figure out what happened to me last year, and nothing is as important to me as that.

"I don't even know where to start," I scoff, "I've been keeping a dream journal, writing down every flashback I have and then the things I want to know about them. I don't want to start going through everything in that just yet, there's too much and-"

"Can I start then?" He asks, cutting in. I gulp.

"Yeah," I mumble. I can hardly say no to that, can I? He's got just as many questions and he deserves answers too. At least he knows what he wants to ask, unlike me. I'm so unprepared for this, which isn't exactly understandable when I've spent so long just dreaming of this moment.

"D-Do you remember the day of the crash?" He inquires, his voice shaking. My stomach twists. Was it not a normal day? Was there something special about that day? I've been wondering for so long now.

"No," I tell him, "I was kind of hoping you could help me with that one." 

"I wouldn't know where to begin," He scoffs, "So much happened, Dan. It...it was like...everything was falling apart. Every aspect of our lives was crumbling and-"

"Did something else happen?" I interrupt, my worry getting the better of my polite nature. I want to hear what he has to say, but that doesn't mean I don't need more answers. I need to specifics. 

"I couldn't explain it," He sighs, "I mean, I can, and I will - don't worry. I just can't right now, there's a lot to process and I need to know what exactly you can remember before I start telling you everything. The last thing I'd want to do is confuse you more-"

"You won't," I protest, "I know a lot! I remember Cat doing weed and getting into trouble! Then Chris freaking out because of you getting into Oxford and I know I failed most of my exams but-"

"It was deeper than that Dan," Phil says, "This wasn't just a bad argument-"

"Where were we even going?" I ask, "I mean, what relevance does the crash have to what was going on? How could anything else that happened that day matter? I don't understand!" 

"Dan, calm down please," Phil says, his voice choked up and almost desperate. My stomach churns with guilt at the sound. I didn't even realize how emotional I was getting; it's all just so overwhelming. 

"I'm sorry," I huff, "I just...I've been taunting myself for so long, Phil. I need to know these things."

"We've got time," He reassures me, his voice comforting and soft - like I remember it to be. "We've got so much time. I-I can explain this all, but first I need to see this dream journal of yours, figure out what you can remember." 

"We need to meet," I grumble. It would be easier that way, regardless of what he says.

"Dan..." Phil lets his voice trail off, obviously reluctant to argue. I don't want to argue either, we shouldn't do that. We need each other, and fighting won't solve anything. It's just not necessary.

"I know," I say, "Time." 

"We can't lose touch again," He says, "I...it was weird without you. I only knew you a year but..." 

"But we loved each other," I whisper it, my voice shaking. I probably shouldn't say things like that, it isn't exactly the best time in the world, but I'm testing my limits. Maybe he'll react alright to me saying those things - after all, they're not lies. We did love each other. I remember enough to be certain of that. 

What I can't be certain of, is whether that feeling is still mutual. Does he still love me? Even just a little bit? 

"We did," Phil agrees, his voice still calm and gentle, "I missed you." My stomach tightens, whilst every other limb turns to jelly. I feel my face crease, as if I'm about to cry, but tears don't fall. My mouth is hanging open, ready to scream, but I hold back any noise I want to make. "I missed you so fucking much." His voice cracks as he speaks, a reassurance that he means every word.

"I miss you too," I say, "It was awful, Phil. I...I didn't know what had happened to you-"

"I'm fine Dan." 

"But I didn't know that," I explain, "It was like, for all I knew, you were dead. Nobody would tell me shit. My parents tried to tell me I'd made you up when I told them about the flashbacks. They believe me now, I think, but that's not the point." 

"They never liked us together," Phil sighs. I rest my head back against the cabinets.

"Were yours worse?" I ask him. I always assumed so, but I can't remember what exactly made me believe that to be the case. 

"Don't you remember?" Phil sneers, a half-amused huff of breath, "They were awful, Dan." 

"How did they take Quinn?" I question, mostly out of curiosity.

"Not great," Phil huffs, "But he takes care of me, so they don't completely despise him." 

"They completely despised me, right?" I quiz, smirking. He chuckles.

"Do you remember or are you guessing?" He replies. 

"Bit of both," I shrug, figuring it's the only accurate answer. "I-" I shut up when I hear the sound of someone's keys in the front door. Fuck. "Shit Phil-"

"What?" He snorts. I gulp, trying to think up the fastest way to explain any of this to him.

"I have to go," I say, "I'm not supposed to be on my phone and if I get caught I'll be in deep, deep shit."

"Oh right," Phil mumbles, "Well, when can I call you back?" 

"Daniel?" Mum calls. I hear the front door slam behind her. I'm practically shaking.

"I don't know," I whisper, "Fuck, I'll call you back, one second." I hang up and slide the phone into my back pocket. Surely, Mum won't notice it's gone just for today.

"Daniel?" She calls out again.

"In here," I respond, grabbing my drink from the counter. I leave the sandwich unfinished, more concerned with getting back upstairs so I can call Phil back. "I was going to eat but then I suddenly started feeling sick again." She's in the living room, peering across at me.

"You look really pasty," She gasps. I try not to take offence, playing up to it.

"I'm going to take a nap," I lie, barging past her and back up the stairs. She doesn't protest, thankfully. 

As soon as my bedroom door is shut I get my phone back out and return the call. He picks up immediately. 

"I have to go too now," Phil sighs, "Quinn just text he's on his way home."

"Can't you talk to me when he's around?" I ask, trying not to show the bitterness in my tone.

"We have plans," He explains, "He's taking me out. I wish I could stay and talk to you all day Dan. Fuck, I'm sorry, I thought we had longer but his lecture finished sooner and-"

"Don't worry about it," I huff, "I'm just glad we got to talk again. When can we do this next?" 

"Tomorrow night?" Phil suggests. I think about it: getting my phone might be easier than I think, and it's at least worth a try. 

"I don't know," I say, "Keep it open, and I'll ring you if I can." 

"I look forward to it," He replies, his voice a tiny bit more hopeful. I smile at the sound of it. "It's been really nice Dan. Fuck. I wish we had more time - there's so much I want to say, it feels like I haven't said enough. Am I forgetting to tell you something?" 

"We have time," I remind him, smiling to myself. "So much time-"

"Are you mocking me?" He asks, laughing. I giggle and hope he can hear it. 

"I'm serious," I say, "I'll try for tomorrow." 

"Great," He gushes, "I'm so glad we got to talk again. I've waited so fucking long for this." 

"Me too," I reply, "I can't quite believe this." 

"Same here." 

"One more thing before you go?" I request, sitting down on my bed. 

"Anything."

"Tell me where we were going when we crashed." 

"Dan..." His voice trails off, like he's thinking of ways to avoid it. 

"Please," I plead, "I need to know, Phil. Where we were going?" Because somehow, it was significant. It had to have been.

"We were going to the airport Dan," Phil says, his voice almost emotionless. Almost.

"What the fuck?" I gasp, the revelation is for some reason a shock to me. I never thought of that. Not once...

"We were running away, Dan. Just like we planned."


	27. Overdue Apologies

An hour after hanging up, I still can't stop thinking about it. It's only just hit me:

That was Phil.

I finally fucking spoke to him, and I'm not even freaking out. At least, not in the way I expected to. My mind is buzzing with all sorts of emotions, but I'm not losing it like I imagined I would. Then again, that didn't at all go how I imagined it would. 

He sounded the same, maybe more nervous than I remember him sounding, but that's no surprise. I was nervous too, yet still not as nervous as I thought I would be.

I can't quite believe it. It's like, now I've spoke to him, I miss him more. I want more than just the sound of his voice, but if that's the only part of him I can have then so be it, I'll accept anything and everything so long as it's from him. I feel emptier than before, even though I've got more closure, more answers. It's weird, and not even close to how I wanted to feel about all of this.

I wonder if anyone else knew that we were running away. Where were we going? The airport? Why would we go there? It seems so...extreme. Still, I guess more happened than I remember at this point. I can ask Phil to elaborate next time, which hopefully will be pretty soon. Now that I have part of him back, I'm not letting go. Never again.

It's five pm when I finally go downstairs again, Mum and Dad are in the living room watching some stupid TV game shows, Dad calling out the answers to every question with far too much enthusiasm. I walk past them practically unnoticed, Mum simply giving me a passing smile. I don't return it.

Instead, I slip the phone back into the cupboard, fearing they'll check it at some point. I can easily get it back out tomorrow or whenever. It won't be too difficult, not if I do it when they're like this - completely distracted. 

"Do we have any pasta left?" I call to them, rooting through the shelves. I'm hungry now, after going most of the day with nothing to eat. I've dropped the whole feeling sick act too, but nobody seems to give a shit anyway, which is probably working in my favour at the minute.

"It's in the fridge," Mum shouts back, "Dan, get the door." I can't even hear the door, but I sigh and go to answer it anyway, glaring at them both as I pass back through the living room. I have the pasta in one hand, so it's a struggle to open the door, but I get there eventually.

"Hi," PJ was the last person I expected to see stood there, then again, I hadn't really put much thought into who would be stood there. My first instinct is to slam the door in his face, but I think he senses this because he puts his foot by the side of the door, making it so I can't close it without crushing it foot. Not that it would really stop me but...

My curiosity gets the better of me.

"What do you want?" I ask, frowning at him. We didn't end on a good note today, but in the madness of everything with Phil, I had kind of forgotten about that stuff. What happens now seems so much less significant compared to what happened then, and I know we're always told that it shouldn't be that way, but I can't help it. 

"I think I owe you an apology," He replies. It takes me by surprise actually, in a nice kind of way. 

"Who is it Dan?" My Mum calls. 

"PJ," I tell her, my voice monotone.

"Hello PJ" Mum shouts.

"Hi," He yells back, stepping inside. I sigh, but I don't ask him to leave. Maybe I need to hear what he has to say. I know I'm not being completely reasonable anyway, so he deserves half a chance to explain himself. I should hear him out before I start blaming him for everything again.

"Come in then," I grumble, walking upstairs. He follows me, closing the door behind him. 

I sit down on my bed, putting the pasta on the desk, and wait for an explanation, not bothering with small talk. He doesn't even try it, standing against my door with an apologetic look in his eyes.

"I just want you to know that I feel awful about Connor," He begins, "I know it was kind of my fault, in a way, I guess." Or maybe I'm just looking for someone else to blame. He could easily call me out on that. He doesn't, and I don't know why.

"Right," I say, unsure of how I'm supposed to respond. Should I even respond? I think I just need to let him speak first.

"But I had no idea it was going to end up like this," PJ says, "I was angry at him. I wanted him to suffer, but not like this. He'll fucking lose it at Parks, and I didn't even want him gone in the first place. He's one of my best friends Dan, even if he isn't a very good one - because I know you care about him, but even you can't deny that he's a fucking dick sometimes. He's still my friend though. And I want you to be too, even if we can never be anything more than that, even if you and him want to fucking, I don't know, marry each other or some shit-"

"No fucking way," I scoff, cutting in. I catch myself smiling and stop it. PJ smirks too.

"Good to know," He sighs, before continuing, "I just thought I should tell you that I never meant for things to get so fucked up. I got jealous and I acted out and I'm sorry. Had I known this was going to turn out so shitty, I would never have said a thing." There's a silence, when he shuts up. I don't know what to say, nor does he. I need to think about it, but at the same, there isn't much to think about.

I know, deep down, that this should be easy. I should tell him it's okay, that I forgive him, and we can move on. That's the right thing to do, I know it and he knows it and there's no good reason for me to not do that.

But my bitterness is getting the better of me. A part of me wants to tell him that the apology can't bring Connor back, that this is still his fault. Spite has a funny way of clouding your judgement like that. I know those things aren't true, yet I kind of want to say them anyway. 

Sometimes it's just easier that way, to have someone to blame, to have someone to direct all the negativity at. PJ isn't that person. He never should have been. None of this was really his fault, if anything, Connor brought it on himself. But I never wanted to see that, did I? That was too hard. If I couldn't blame anyone else, I'd have to blame the world, but I didn't want to do that again. I'm tired of being mad at the world. 

I'm tired of being mad.

"I'm sorry too," I say eventually. I'm aware of my voice cracking, but I refuse to cry, blinking back any tears of shame that creep into my eyes. "I shouldn't have blamed you." 

"It's okay," PJ replies, walking further into my room, "I get it. I would have probably blamed me too." 

"I was an asshole," I admit, shaking my head. It's past the point of denial now, and if I'm going to be a dick, I should at least have the balls to admit to it. "Connor was too, I just didn't want to see it." 

"He is," PJ says, "But you get used to it after so long. Are you two still together or..." His voice trails off. I don't know what to tell him, to be honest. I want to say yes, that we're going to make it work even if our parents can't know about it, and even if we can't contact each other right now. I want to say that, but I don't.

Mostly, because I'm not really sure that's what I even want. I thought it was, but after talking to Phil today, everything is kind of messed up. I didn't think I was really in love with Phil anymore or anything, and I'm not saying that I am now, but after hearing his voice again...

It's brings back familiar feelings. Things I really didn't anticipate. 

How can I feel like that about Phil and then hold my head up high in a relationship with someone else? It would feel all kinds of wrong.

"I don't know," I say, giving PJ the most honest answer I can. He kind of deserves that. 

"Did you know he was leaving?" He asks. I nod, ashamed. Maybe I shouldn't have lied to them all about that earlier, but I just didn't want to add fuel to the fire. Clarky would only have been more upset, and I didn't know what bullshit excuse to give them for it. 

"His parents brought him here the other night," I explain, "I was out at the time, off hunting down some old friends. When I got back the three of them were sat in the living room with my parents talking about how we couldn't see each other anymore, and how they wanted my parents to stop me from talking to him completely, block his number, all the social media bullshit-"

"Gosh," PJ cuts in, raising his eyebrows. I don't know if he's really surprised at all, or if he truly wants to hear this but I'm glad he's willing to listen. "What did you do?"

"When I saw him?" I ask. PJ nods. I smirk, "I passed out." 

"Well shit," PJ sneers, chuckling. I let out an amused breath, but I'm not really in the mood to laugh. "So you haven't spoken to him since?" 

"Nope," I say, "I need to talk to him though. We all do. I think he's grounded though, there's no way I'd be allowed to see him. Maybe you could, or Clarky." 

"Maybe," PJ shrugs, "It's worth a try." 

"Give it a week," I suggest, "Try calling him or something. He's probably allowed to speak to you."

"Maybe," PJ repeats. He sits down now, awkwardly placing himself on the edge of my desk chair. "So, are we good now? I mean, friends again?" 

"Yeah," I say, "I don't think I have the energy to fight anymore. It's stupid, I'm sorry." 

"I don't care," PJ replies, "As long as we're okay. You're like my best friend. I don't know what to do when you don't want to be around me." I really hope he means that in a platonic way, because I can't handle any other way right now. I know he'd like it to be completely un-platonic, but it can't be. Not now, and probably not ever. 

"Right," I mumble, trying to brush the comment off, "Was Clarky alright today by the way?" 

"Not really," PJ sighs, "He didn't say much, and he got mad when Dana brought Connor up, even though she was roasting him for-"

"Don't you feel shitty for him?" I ask, cutting in. "Because I do. I feel really bad, and I know it isn't my fault, but why do people treat him like that? Do they not give a shit?"

"I don't know," PJ replies, stammering, "I...I feel bad sometimes, but I mean, he doesn't make it easier for himself, and it isn't my fault people don't like him, or that Connor never trusted him." 

"Nobody makes it easier for him though," I counter, although I know he has a point. Connor was worse than PJ for digging at Clarky, and even Freddy told me that. I can't help but pity the guy. Clarky's words keep ringing in my ear - "I can handle girls not liking me, but not my best friends." He deserves better.

Don't we all?

"Right," PJ agrees, unable to fight me on that. "I should get going then. I only told my Mum I was coming round to show you some homework." 

"Right," I mutter, "Well, thanks." 

"Yeah, thanks," He shrugs, as if he isn't sure what I'm thanking him for. I guess I'm thanking him for apologizing, for letting this come to some sort of end. At least I don't have to be angry at him anymore. At least I can focus on Phil now.

Phil and Connor. 

Huh, I can't see either of the people that matter most to me right now. Funny how that works. "I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?" 

"Yeah." I mumble, because things have to go on. I can't fuck up school again. I can't stop going just because Connor won't be there. I can't stop going because I could be talking to Phil. I need this to work out, it's kind of the only thing in my control right now. 

I can't help it if Connor and I have to end. I can't make Phil want to see me again. I can't force Cat and Chris, or anyone, to stay friends with me. I can't make anyone like Clarky. I can't make my parents happy with who I am. 

But I can get my shit together in school. That one thing can go right for me, if nothing else. 

Lord knows something has to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this is so late and so short!!! Thanks for sticking around this long and reading though, I can't tell you how much it means to me, and those comments fuel me so much oh gosh. I can't really give a decent excuse for why this is so late, I was just working on more exciting things (I talked about the other phan I'm working on before, right?) and this chapter was more of a filler so it wasn't the most exciting thing to write, but things are gonna get more exciting soon - I'm pretty sure this is coming to some sort of an end now, maybe only a few chapters left (but we'll see how that turns out, my planning is poor) but after that I've got another story to throw at you, if you're interested. As always, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!


	28. I Miss You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back coming @ you with my worst chapter yet. Enjoy.

I wake up feeling like shit. My stomach feels empty, mostly from hunger, but also from the overwhelming pang of how much I miss somebody. 

Somebody.

Because in all honesty, I'm not sure who it is I wish was by my side right now.

Phil doesn't even want to be there. Connor can't be. 

I drag myself out of bed, note down the dream, then get ready for school. 

PJ arrives early today, probably to ensure I don't set off without him, and we make awkward small talk all the way there. When we actually get to school, nobody is really talking anyway. Everyone is down, but nobody is willing to actually say why - not that we need to ask.

It's clear that we miss Connor. It isn't clear why.

He wasn't all that great, not upon reflection. But I still miss him, I guess. And everyone else seems to. He had a huge presence, when he was around, you knew it. Now he isn't, and we're noticing just as much. Mack told me that all of his accounts have been deleted, or at least, we're all blocked from seeing them. I don't know how we're going to go about getting back in contact with him, but I need to. 

If I could find Phil, I can find Connor. It should be easier, but that doesn't mean it will be - because when are things ever easier for me?

-

Clarky seems to have perked up a bit today by lunch, enough to chat entertaining shit again at least. "I'm just saying, faj-ita sounds better than fajita." 

"I hope you don't ever have to order fajitas in public," Mack says, rolling her eyes at him.

"Lucky for you I can't afford to eat anywhere that serves faj-itas," Clarky replies, grinning. Freddy laughs, but nobody else is in the mood to do quite that much, nothing more than a few smirks from anyone else.

"And we never go out for dinner together," Mack points out, "Maybe we should-"

"Are you asking me on a date-" 

"Get fucked, you wish."

"I do," Clarky admits, smirking. Mack flicks some crumbs at him and he chuckles. Everyone else watches, forcing smiles and acting like it's all alright. If Clarky can pretend it is, everyone else should too, for his sake if nothing more.

It seems as if everyone else is willing to too, Dana, PJ and I are smiling along. The others didn't sit with us today, but Dana and Freddy have made an appearance for some reason, maybe out of pity, but I'm not complaining, I like their company. Most of the time, anyway. Dana, as usual, is all smirks and sarcastic comments, but Freddy seems completely miserable. I don't understand why, not when he hated Connor the way he did.

"I was going to say we should all do something like that," Mack explains, "Like go for a meal or something. We never do anything like that."

"Yeah but there's a reason for that," PJ scoffs, "We can't afford fancy meals out, I can barely push a McDonald's." 

"I only said a meal," Mack says, "I never said we had to take a trip to Ramsey's-"

"I should fucking think not," Dana sneers, cutting in. "I bet it costs to fucking breath in that place." 

"Imagine paying two hundred quid for a steak anyway," Clarky scoffs, rolling his eyes, "That could but you two hundred Kinder Eggs-"

"If I could afford two hundred pound steak," Dana cuts in, "I'd live off of that shit-"

"But the kinder eggs, Dana-"

"I have to go," Freddy suddenly snaps, standing up. We all shut up, watching him as he picks up his bag and storms out of the canteen. We all exchange confused looks before anyone actually speaks up.

"What the fuck is his problem?" Mack asks, frowning. 

"I'll go find out," I sigh, figuring it will probably be more interesting than wherever the fuck a conversation about Kinder eggs and steak can go.

I grab my own bag and leave the same way Freddy did, but he's long gone. I look around when I get outside, but he's nowhere in the yard. The next place I check is the toilets, but they're empty aside from some year sevens mucking about with the dryers. I head over to the PE block, the last place it makes sense for him to be. Freddy likes sport, according to every stereotype about him ever.

I'm right. 

He's sat in the changing rooms, hugging his legs to his chest in the corner of a bench, using his other hand to furiously type on his phone.

"What are you doing?" I ask, "Are you messaging Connor?" He looks up at me, his mouth hanging open. 

"No," He protests, "I mean yeah - but it's not like he's responding." I sit down on the bench beside him.

"Are you okay?" I ask. He shakes his head. I didn't really expect any other response. "Do you miss him?" 

"It's weird," Freddy says, "Because I do, but I always did. I always cared about him. I fucking hated that, because it's so fucking gay." 

"And you don't like being reminded that you are?" I mumble, cautious of offending him. He nods, knowing there's no reason to deny it. "He cared about you too." 

"I think he says that to everyone he gets with," Freddy shrugs, "I wasn't that special." 

"Five months is a long time," I counter, trying to offer him some form of comfort. It doesn't seem to be working, but I keep going anyway. "He told me about you, that has to count for something." 

"This isn't even about him, Dan," Freddy huffs. I frown at him, waiting for a follow up explanation. "I'm mad at myself too, you know. I ignored him for so long and I-" His voice cracks, and he's crying again. I put an arm around him awkwardly, but he seems to appreciate the gesture, burying his head in my neck. 

"We all fuck up," I say, "What's done is done, and he's alright now, he's okay with you now, so that's what matters." He's still sobbing into my shoulder.

"I hate being like this," He croaks. It hits me deep, causing a heavy pang in my stomach. I wish I couldn't relate. I wish he didn't feel that way. I wish there was something somebody could do. 

"You get used to it," I reply, because that's honestly all I can think to say. I can't tell him that it's going to be alright, because I can't promise that. I can't tell him that it gets easier, or that one day he'll learn to love and embrace who he is, because I can't be sure of that either. Maybe he's going to detest who he is until the day he dies. 

It wouldn't be a rare tragedy. 

"I don't want to," He grumbles. I can't argue with that, I can't do anything. Nobody can, and perhaps that's the saddest part of this bullshit. "I don't get it." 

"What?"

"I don't get how they're all acting so normal," Freddy says. I shrug. I don't know either. I think they're just pretending, for the sake of ease. Nobody wants to dwell on things that make them sad, though sometimes that can't be helped. 

"It's not like they aren't upset," I explain, "I think they're just accepting that there's nothing we can do. This is out of our hands, Connor isn't going to move back, it isn't his choice."

"I know I just..." Freddy lets his voice trail off, "I feel like I'm the only one that's sad about it. It's weird, because I'm the one not supposed to be sad about it." 

"You're allowed to be sad for as long as you want," I tell him, trying to use my most reassuring tone. He smiles at me as if what I'm saying really matters to him, and then sits back up, pulling out of my embrace. It's less awkward that way. "I'm sad, if that makes you feel any better at all." 

"You're allowed to be sad," Freddy counters, "You were his boyfriend, which is further than I ever got-"

"We weren't boyfriends," I protest, although I'm not sure what other label would fit. Freddy shuffles uncomfortably, laying his legs out across the benches. 

"Did you want to be?" He asks. I shrug. I don't really know what I want, and I never did.

"Maybe," I say, "But I don't think we'd work out. Anyway, you two were practically together. You had more than me and him could have - five months is a pretty long time-"

"Five months of getting off behind closed doors and pretending like we didn't care in front of everyone else," He scoffs, "It was five months of him saying he wanted me to fuck him then pussying out every time I had a free house. Five months of me watching Mack drool over him and him acting like she had a shot. Five months of trying to convince myself that even though we really liked each other, we weren't gay, and we couldn't be together. Five months of mental torture and emotional bullshit, topped off with a couple of hot making out sessions. It was a long time, but it wasn't romantic or cute or amazing. It was the worst five months of my life." 

"Is that why you ignored him?" I have to ask it. There's an awkward silence before Freddy's reply.

"Kind of," He shrugs, "There's a lot of reasons. I just wanted it to end, I could go back to telling myself I didn't like boys and-" His voice cracks again, and he stops speaking. I pat his shoulder, trying to offer some sort of sympathy.

"Do you regret it?" I ask, mostly out of curiosity.

"Yes," He admits, letting his head bang back against the wall. I feel a tug in my stomach. He still gives a fuck, even so much later. Even though he knows Connor cares about me.

I guess time doesn't change everything. Nor do new people. 

And maybe that's applicable to Phil too.

"I should have talked to him," Freddy sighs, "I should have had sex with him. I should have listened to him. I should have stopped him." 

"From what?" 

"Everything," He huffs, "All the things he did after me. I knew he was trying to make me jealous, make me think he didn't care. He used to get with the other lads in our year, always made sure I knew about it somehow, then laughed off any rumors. I knew they weren't rumors though. And I wish we'd never got to that point." 

"Was I a rumor?" It's the curiosity, getting the better of me.

"Nah," Freddy says, "I knew about the two of you before you even knew about the two of you. You're his type."

"I'm nothing like you," I sneer.

"Exactly," He mumbles. I frown.

"I'm not a threat to you," I say, "I didn't set out to hurt you. I didn't even know about you until...well, I was too far gone." 

"I don't want him back," Freddy sighs, "I just want to forget him. Isn't that supposed to be easier with him not around?"

"If you wanted to forget him, you would've already," I tell him, "You can't let go of unfinished business." 

"I can't finish it though," He whispers, closing his eyes. "Never had the balls." 

"You never even tried to finish it," I counter, "You ran away. And believe me, running doesn't work. I've tried that." 

"I don't know how to finish it though," He groans.

"What's the alternative?" I ask him. He bites his lip.

"We could never figure it out," He says, "If that's what you're expecting me to say."

"You haven't even tried," I sneer.

"I don't even want to," He counters.

"You're just scared," I spit, "There's a difference." And somehow, I know I'm right. He knows it too, looking at me with an almost dark look in his eye.

"And if I did try?" He asks, "Where would that leave you? Wouldn't you be pissed off if he came running back to me?" 

"I have more important things to worry about," I reply, trying to be as honest as possible, "And if being with you would make you both happy, then it isn't really my place to intervene." I stand up.

"Oh."

"Try to talk to him," I say, "Somehow. Let me know how it goes. Hell, let me talk to him if you can. Whatever you do, do something. Don't sit in a locker room and cry, Freddy, believe me, crying doesn't solve problems."

-

The house is empty when I get home. I don't know where my Mum is, but I know Dad will be at work. I get the phone from the cupboard and disappear upstairs. I ring it immediately.

"Danny?" Phil's voice sets something off inside of me. I don't know if it's down to the day I've had, or just because I miss him so much, but I find myself crying.

"I miss you," I tell him, "I miss you all the time. I miss you so fucking much, Phil. I just thought I should tell you that, if nothing else. Because if you don't know that then you don't know how I feel and I need you to know how I feel-"

"You're rambling," He cuts in, his voice soft, "Are you okay?" I feel like I've been stabbed when he doesn't say it back. He said it last time. Maybe it wasn't true. Maybe it was just a blanket statement. Maybe he just said it because he felt like it was the right thing to say. Maybe he's happy with his life now. Maybe he just wants answers and nothing more.

Regardless, I'm sobbing.

"No," I reply, "Not really." 

He listens.

I tell him about Connor and Freddy. I tell him about PJ and Mack - even Clarky. I tell him about all the shit they do and how they're all a little bit fucked up, and how I kind of wish I didn't like Connor in the way I do, and I how I wish PJ didn't like me in the way he does. I tell him almost everything. He listens.

And he listens so well, occasionally asking me a question, or trying to help me justify how I feel. It's supposed to make me feel better, getting it all off of my chest. 

In some ways, it does. It's nice hearing someone, especially Phil, tell me that I did nothing wrong, and that it was okay for me to be confused. 

But it only makes me miss him more. It only reminds me of what is no longer mine.

"Do you like it up there then?" He asks me, "Bullshit aside, are you happy there Dan?" 

"I don't know," I sigh, "If I was happy, I think maybe I would know. But I've never been good at all this understanding my feelings bullshit." He chuckles at that, and it makes my heart flutter. I miss him.

"Me neither," He admits. I smile to myself, but it's not a happy smile. 

"Are you happy?" I ask him, trying to change the topic from me and my life for a bit. I want to know how he is. It does matter to me, probably way more than it should considering I haven't seen him in so long. Considering he won't say that he misses me back, even though he did yesterday.

"No," He says, his voice monotone. I feel another stab for him. I wish he was, that would probably make all of this so much easier. "I don't think so. I think I'd know if I was, right? And nothing has been the same since the crash. I...I mean, things have kind of fucked up. And university sucks. And I miss home. And I miss Chris and Cat and...I miss everything." 

"Even me?" I ask, a slight slip in my tone. 

"More than anything else," He responds, his tone flat and emotionless in contrast to what he just admitted. My stomach bubbles up again and I can't stop the sad smile from forming across my face. He misses me too!

"Phil..." I want to say it. I want to tell him. 

But I don't. I can't bring myself to. 

"Yeah?" He asks, his voice a little brighter, almost hopeful.

"I..." I can't say it. "There's some stuff I need to ask you, just to clear up, you know?" 

"Oh," He says, "Yeah, of course. Go ahead."

I ask him about our first kiss. He tells me it was quick and messy and frantic, but he liked it and I almost cried. I ask him about our first date. He explains that we didn't really go on dates and that he kind of regrets that now. I hold back the urge to suggest that we go on one to make up for it sometime. 

I ask him about Cassie, and he tells me I got jealous a lot and we couldn't get along. I ask him if he cared about her, he said that she didn't mean a thing once I was on the scene. I ask him about the sex. He giggles and tells me that we did it a few times. He says we weren't great and I never lasted long, but it was okay. We laugh about it, and I remind him that I have nothing to compare it to. He says that he doesn't either. We laugh again. 

Then we talk about other stuff. What we liked to do together (sexual things aside), and he says we used to watch movies. Our favorite was Titanic. We used to cry at it together. We once fooled around the entire duration of it. I laugh at that and he chuckles too. 

"I thought you said I couldn't last," I sneer. He giggles.

"You didn't," He says, "We made out for the first half, you were practically coming in your pants. I sucked you off, then we made out again. You got another woody and so we fucked-" I burst out laughing, and he joins in.

"Can't wait to have a flashback about that," I say. Phil chuckles.

"Am I giving you too many spoilers?" He asks. 

"No way," I reply, "I need spoilers. You can't leave me any big surprises." 

"I can't promise you won't be surprised at anything," He says, "Maybe you'll be good surprised. I don't know. I can't remember anything else significant that you don't already know about." 

"Do you think I'll remember the crash?" I ask him. There's a pause.

"I don't know," He replies, and I don't know why I expected any different. How could he know? "It might not even be for the best if you do. Maybe you'll get upset or something." 

"I can't get much more upset than I already am," I sigh. I hear him gulp.

"You deserve to be happy," He says, "You'll be at peace with all of this one day. I promise."

"Will you be?" I inquire. That matters too. 

"Time will tell," Phil mumbles. I bite my lip, unsure of how to respond. I don't know what I'm supposed to say. I think I know why he's unhappy, I think it's because of his legs. He can't know that. He'll tell me in his own time. I hope, at least.

I hope he tells me everything. 

"Tell me about Quinn." 

He does.

He tells me that Quinn is studying art and loves nature. He tells me that Quinn is pretty, and he's got dirty blonde hair and lots of freckles and bright brown eyes, apparently kind of like mine. He tells me that Quinn likes to read and they watch movies together too. Quinn takes care of him, and he's funny and kind and interesting. He tells me that they met on a starry night on an off chance in some late night library. He tells me that they go on dates every week and have board game nights. He tells me that Quinn loves to cook for him and buys a new vinyl every month. 

He tells me that they're in love.

I tell him that's beautiful. I tell him Quinn sounds amazing. I tell him that I'm glad Quinn makes him feel happy. 

And I tell myself that it doesn't break my heart, yet I'm choking up anyway. The hole in my stomach is bigger than I thought possible, and the pain of it makes me want to curl up and scream. I'm crying, but not the loud sobbing kind, the endless streams of silent tears kind. And I'm acting like it's okay, like I'm happy for them.

"You'd love him too, Dan," Phil is saying. I'm listening, because it's slightly better than listening to the voice inside my head. "He says he'd like to meet you." 

"Did you tell him about me?" I ask, knowing full well that he didn't. I wonder if he'll detect the rawness in my voice, the slight crack as I speak. Will he know that I'm crying again? Will he know why? 

The silence is too long. I know the answer, and I knew it anyway. "No," He admits. I feel another tug inside me, hitting me right on my heart. I take a deep breath, trying so hard not to break. "Not until you called."

"Why not?" 

"I didn't want to talk about you," Phil explains, every word another dagger in my back. I'm biting my lip to stop myself from letting out a horrendously big sob. "I thought about you, all the time, believe me Dan. I miss you so much, I just...Quinn was new and exciting and special and I didn't want him to think I had all this emotional baggage and-" It comes out anyway, the sob is too loud to disguise. I let it out, giving in. 

"I'm not emotional baggage," I cry, slamming a fist into my bed. It does shit all to quench the anger and sadness and every other emotion dwelling my stomach and my head and my heart.

"I didn't mean it like that-" 

"What did you mean then?" I quiz, knowing full well there isn't a right answer. He can't make me feel better. 

Nothing can.

The one thing I hoped, even if I didn't admit it, was that Phil still loved me. I thought I'd always have him, that he'd always care.

But he's in love with someone else. He isn't in love with me anymore. The feeling isn't mutual and there's nothing I can do about it. Whatever I let myself believe, about him running back to me, about us being together again and working it out, it was all bullshit. It's not happening. It can't.

And I can't handle that truth right now. 

"I wanted to let you go," Phil whispers, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Dan I just- I...I thought you'd never remember me! I thought you'd live the rest of your life never giving me second thought, you have to understand that hurts like hell, Danny! Listen, I didn't stop caring. I still thought about you every day, I just wanted to move on." 

And I can't fight him about that. I can't tell him he was wrong to do that, or call him a wanker. I can't do anything. He did nothing wrong, and I have nowhere to direct my anger. I can't even blame Quinn, even though the thought of the man makes my blood boil.

Instead I tell Phil that I have to go. He understands. We say goodbye, arrange to speak again in a couple of days, and then I hang up. I throw the phone against the wall and climb into bed, sobbing like a fucking child. I can't help it though, I feel as if everything has just been taken from me. 

My eyes are stinging and aching, and my ribs feel almost bruised. There's an ache in my chest, just above the hole of emptiness, and a lump in my throat stopping me from swallowing.

I thought it was all working out. I thought things were going my way, finally.

But that was all too good to be true. 

And I was dumb enough to believe it. 

Now I'm back to square one - with nothing and nobody on my side. I've felt alone before. I've felt hurt and betrayed before. I thought I knew heart break. 

I just didn't know those things could hurt like this. But there's nothing I can do, is there?

Because crying doesn't solve problems - does it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter - if that is even possible. I hurt myself writing this to be honest, but if I'm not here for angst then idk what my purpose is. Comments are always loved, honestly I'm so grateful for the support I've received for this thing, because it's so special to me and I'm glad other people can appreciate that too, even if I'm not the best writer in the world, and if this isn't the most well thought out story. So yeah, I hope you're enjoying this, and thank you for reading lovelies.


	29. The Art of Learning to Cope

I still feel like shit the next day. 

My mind isn't all there, as if I'm still half asleep, and the rest of me just wants to curl up in a ball and cry. I don't do that though. Instead, I drag myself out of bed and to school.

I'm sat in french when it occurs to me that I didn't have a flashback last night. I'm almost relieved. I don't think I could've taken remembering something else, it feels like I'm being stabbed every time I think about Phil, which has been all day so far. It won't go away. I can't forget, not even for a minute. 

"You're bloody boring today," Nick scoffs at me, frowning. I'm too tired to respond, simply shrugging and getting on with the work sheet we're supposed to, or at least attempting to. "Is this about Connor?" 

"No," I mumble. It's not like I'm even lying. I was coming to accept that Connor wasn't going to be around anymore, I really almost believed that it was going to all work out anyway, that things would be okay. After talking to Phil, that optimism, along with the rest of it, came crashing down.

"I call bullshit on that," Nick says, shaking his head at me. I look up at him, wordlessly warning him. I don't want to talk about it, how can he not see that? 

"Leave it Nick," Dana sighs. I'm glad she's here, if that's anything at all. She moved onto our table today because Mohammed isn't here, and that's probably the best thing that's happened to me in the last twenty four hours. Her presence is a little bit comforting. Not much, but a little. "What have you put for number four?" 

"Norvege," I tell her, my voice flat and emotionless. 

"Is that Norway?" She asks. I nod. Somehow, even within the mast of bullshit circling around my head, I'm managing to do my work. It's almost distracting me, but not quite. The hole in my stomach is kind of difficult to ignore, and it's most definitely made worse by the fact I can't talk to anyone about it. 

At least, not right now. I hardly think an emotional breakdown in the middle of french, as fitting and necessary as it may seem, is going to be of much social benefit for me. People think I'm weird enough as it is. Nobody wants to watch a seventeen year old boy sob.

"I'm going to flop on this exam," Nick sighs, "I can't even do question six." 

"I doubt the world will crash and burn just because the great Nicolas Gordon failed GCSE French," Dana says, which I suppose is her own little way of trying to comfort him. 

"You don't know that," Nick protests, "And fuck off because you'll cry if you fail French." 

"I'm good at French though," Dana shrugs. Nicks laughs at that, and she flicks a rubber at him in retaliation.

"You just had to ask Dan what Norway was," He points out, "Can't be that brilliant mate-"

"Fuck off," She snaps, "That was different! I just couldn't be arsed figuring it out myself-"

"Bullshit, you're just as thick as me," Nick cuts in, smirking. He looks up at me, almost as if he's searching for approval. I look back down at the work sheet and write in the next answer, even though it's probably wrong. "Connor would know how to do this. He's mint at French." I look up at him, glaring.

Is he trying to trigger a reaction out of me?

"Connor isn't here," Dana snaps, "So shut the fuck up about him, please." She offers me a sympathetic smile, and I force one back. I'm not sure why she's smiled, and I'm not sure why Nick brought him up. Neither of them knew about me and Con, so there's no reason for them to be doing it for my sake. Nick definitely can't know anything - if he did, everyone would know about it. As for Dana, I'm not sure how she stands with secret keeping, although she did keep a pinky promise to Freddy for going on four years, which must count for something.

"I don't care that he's moved," Nick says, and I can't tell if he means it or not, "I just want to know why. The grades thing has to be bullshit, because he was doing alright. Always did his homework, rarely skived, passed most of the mocks. I mean, come on, if he's going to bullshit us about why he's getting sent off, he could at least spin a believable lie, you know?" 

Nick has hit the nail on the head, but I have no idea what I'm supposed to say to it. Dana looks just as dumbstruck as me. 

"If I knew why he'd gone," I lie, "I'd tell you." Nick raises his eyebrows at me, as if he can see right through me. He isn't stupid, he's probably aware that I know more than I'm letting on, but it's not like there's anything he can say to prove that. I won't admit it. 

"Maybe he just hates us all," Dana suggests, "I can't give Willy that idea though, poor bastard, it would torture him." 

"Clarky probably knows," Nick says, "I reckon he's covering Connor's ass. Maybe Connor did something really bad and he's just decided - 'fuck it, gotta run'."

"Doubt it," Dana replies, raising her eyebrows, "Willy can't keep his mouth shut with shit like that and- look, can we just talk about something else? I'm sick of hearing about Connor at this point, all this speculation bullshit, maybe his parents just want him to do better." 

"What do you mean?" I ask, gulping. She frowns at me, so I take the hint and explain myself. "What do you mean he can't keep his mouth shut? Even when it's serious?" 

"So you do know something," Nick snaps, as if he's surprised. I ignore him, not even taking my eyes off of Dana to pass him a dirty look.

"Well," Dana explains, "When Will gets emotional, he's too honest. He'll tell anyone anything. It would probably be easy to find out why Connor's left, if he even knows." 

"He must do," Nick sighs, before adding, "And Dana, I'm going to tell him that you actually called him Will." 

"I called him Willy," She protests, slamming her pen on the table, "Shit." I force a smile, as if the conversation is offering me some sort of amusement. It's really not, but I play along for their sake. 

"I can't wait to tell him that," Nick says, chuckling to himself, "Might cheer him up a bit." 

"Five minutes and I want these sheets finished," Mr Radley calls from his desk. I look down at my half finished sheet and sigh. I don't think I can be bothered to finish it. I don't want to be here at all, never mind doing shite French worksheets. 

"I doubt it," Dana says, "I think the only thing that's going to cheer that boy up is if we take his ginger arse to Parks and let him scream at Connor for an hour." She isn't wrong.

"Don't they have loads of security and shit around Parks?" Nick asks. 

"Fuck knows," Dana says, "It wasn't a serious suggestion." But I remember anyway. Maybe it will cheer Clarky up to see Connor again, even if just to let off some steam. 

It would definitely cheer me up.

And Parks isn't that far from here... 

"I've got something else to cheer him up anyway," Nick says, "Thought I might throw a party on Friday. It's not Sams, so I can only have like, half of who he did, but feel like we need a good piss up after this week. You up for it?" 

"You babe!" Dana exclaims, "Fuck yeah, I'll see if David will buy me some alcohol for it. Do you have any?" 

"Yeah," Nick says, "We'll just crack open my mums stuff. She won't notice, only drinks on special occasions. Dan? You up for it?"

"Yeah," I mumble, "Thanks." But I'm too busy thinking about getting to Parks. It's a possibility, a realistic one at that. I don't know why I didn't think of it sooner to be honest. 

-

I suggest it to Clarky as soon as we're alone together, which is at the start of lunch in the line for chips. 

"You're mad," Clarky scoffs at me, "Parks is ages away." 

"It's an hours walk at best," I protest, pretty confident with my estimation. Parks is the other local school, it's just a bit posher. It can't be that far away. "We could just skip third lesson and walk up for dinner. Easy." 

"And how do you suggest we get in?" Clarky asks. I'm surprised he's thought it through this much, as if he's had the idea before. "Connor won't know we're going. We can't tell him, how could we? And they have dinner in the back part, which is completely blocked off because there's a private car park behind it. We can't get in, especially not in our uniform. Connor wouldn't be able to get out, either." 

"We could wait for him after school then," I suggest, "He can only leave one way, and he'd be quite hard to miss-"

"He gets picked up," Clarky cuts in, immediately shutting me down, "He couldn't walk home all that way, it's at least forty minutes. Plus, if his parents saw us waiting there we'd be slaughtered, and he'd only get into more trouble." I nod, unable to fight him about this.

"Next," The dinner lady shouts, and Clarky walks ahead. I stay stood, dumb struck. I hadn't expected Clarky to shut me down so quickly - he's usually so eager to do things like that. I assumed he'd be up for it. I guess I was wrong.

And that hardly helps my bad mood. 

-

I return home to an empty house once again. I shove a mini pizza in the oven and check my phone whilst nobody is in. There are no messages, not a single text, and me and Phil agreed to talk tomorrow, so I can't just call him tonight out of nowhere.

I'm not sure he'd like that. I'm not even sure I'd like that. What would I say? What am I going to say tomorrow? Because right now, I think the sound of his voice would bring me to tears. I don't want to think about it, but it's not something I can avoid. It's too much. He's too much.

I go back upstairs once the pizza is done, but I'm not even in the mood for eating. I haven't felt hungry all day to be honest, but eating is my natural response to boredom, even though the food is tasteless. 

I go on my laptop and log onto everything. I said I'd pass Phil's number onto everyone, so I do that, without actually engaging in much of a discussion with anyone. I simply send them the number and explain that it belongs to Phil, ignoring any replies I get. 

I wouldn't have even opened any of the messages, but when I go downstairs again to put my plate away, the phone in the cupboard is ringing. My first thought is that it's Phil, but I'm wrong. It's Cat. I miss the call, so I check the numerous inboxes she's left me instead.

**Cat: Oh my gosh, how did you get it?**

**(16.43) Dan!!!**

**(16.44) Have you talked to him? What did he say omg? This is amazing Dan omg I'm freaking out!!!!!**

**(16.47) Where are you omg???? Can I ring you? Need to talk about this asap, I'm literally having a break down!!! Chris said you'd talked to Martyn but he never said you got a number wtf!!!!**

**(16.52) Seriously I'm still freaking out wtf, Dan where you at??? I have so many questions!!! ******

I sigh and decide to reply. She deserves that, I suppose. This is a big deal for her too, and I can't erase that just because I'm upset Phil isn't in love with me anymore. He still cares about Cat and she still cares about him. I should be happy for Cat regardless, because now she's going to have one of her best friends back too and that's amazing. 

She doesn't know about everything though. Neither does Chris, or anyone else. They have no idea that he's paralyzed, and they have no idea that he loves someone else. His life has completely changed, and I fear they're more unprepared to deal with that than even I am. 

****Dan: Sorry, I was having dinner. Martyn gave me his landline so I left a message with my number and he rang me back. We've talked twice, it was nice. I was excited too, are you going to phone him? ********

She replies almost instantly. 

******C: Yeah, but I can't right now so I'll try later. omg though, as if you've spoke to him! What did you say? Is he okay???** ** **

******D: He's fine, said he didn't know if he was happy but he's in love and everything so it all sounds fine but obviously I don't know everything and also he's at uni but he's gone to different one, not actually far from here but he said he didn't want to meet me yet which was weird but you know, can't exactly argue with that haha** ** **

******C: As if!! Does he have a new boyfriend then? Aw, that's good for him though, are you okay with it?** ** **

******D: I don't know to be honest** ** **

******C: You can talk to me about it Dan xxx ******** **

So I do. I ring her up only two minutes later, and before I've even fully explained everything I'm in tears again. She seems to understand, letting me talk and listening really well, taking everything in and adding in occasional sounds of acknowledgement. I tell her everything he said, everything it made me feel. She seems to understand. 

"Dan," She says, softly, "It'll be okay, you know? Even if he doesn't ever love you back again. Even if nothing ever happens between you two again. It will all be okay, you know? You'll fall in love again. You'll find new, equally as amazing people. Maybe they won't be like Phil, but they'll be different. They'll love you back. You'll have that one day, with Phil or not. And if not, it's okay, because you once had it with him. That was real, that existed, and nothing can take that away from you. Dan, you have those memories back now, cherish them, even if it's over. It was amazing whilst it lasted, wasn't it? And that's what matters. Phil has someone else now, but nothing can change the fact he once cared about you like that, nothing can take that from you, do you understand?" 

I do understand. 

It's all very clear, but my stomach is still twisting and I'm still sobbing. 

"I know," I say, not bothering to even attempt concealing how choked up I sound. Cat knows. She understands. "I just really fucking wish he loved me." 

"It's out of your hands," Cat sighs, sympathetically. "Just give it time." 

"I hate this," I sob, "I hate it. Fuck time. Fuck waiting around-" 

"There's nothing you can do," She insists, cutting me off. I know she's right, but as usual, my emotions are blurring my morality, and I want to fucking smash something. There's nothing I can do to make Phil fall in love with me, but it doesn't mean I have to sit in my bedroom and cry about it. 

"I don't want to feel like this," I tell her, pacing up and down in my room. "I need to do something. Smash something up. Go fucking mental." 

"Break some shit then Dan," Cat suggests, ever the supportive friend. Her advice isn't necessarily the best, but at least if I take it I can blame her when the regret hits. "Get a bat and knock in a car window or something. I-" 

"I know what I'm doing," I say, "I'll talk to you later." 

"Let me know-" I hang up on her and throw the phone back on the bed, then without even thinking about it I go up into the attic. 

The box is still exactly where I left it, and I carry it back down. I open it again, looking through to see if there's anything worth saving. Does any of it really matter? It's all bullshit, stuff from my old life. Shit I can't remember. 

I take out the photographs, internally kicking myself for doing so as I put them in my drawer. Then, I carry the box downstairs. I go into the kitchen and grab a box of matches and the key for the back garden. I unlock the door, and realize upon doing so that I've never actually been in the garden at this house. I've seen it before, but I've never been in it. 

As I walk out, the cold air hits me, but I'm okay. I walk down to the middle, which isn't very far as it's a considerably small patch of grass, with a tiny patio at the top end. I drop the box, tears streaming down my face. 

I'm still angry, and still upset. I don't know if that's fair of me. Am I allowed to be angry? Phil doesn't love me, and that doesn't feel like reason enough to harbor all of this rage, yet I do. Maybe it isn't just Phil though, it's everything. 

Life is not fucking fair, it's fucking with me and it's all because of last year. 

I look down on the box, the same box that holds every physical thing I have left from last year. It should hold so much sentimental value, and maybe it does, but whatever love I have for it is clouded by all the negativity I feel. Fuck the box. Fuck last year. Fuck my life. 

I let out a scream, but it comes out more of an angry sob. A weak yell. I kick the box, not that my bare feet do much damage to it, but the action allows me to vent in a way better than screaming does. 

I do both, screaming out as I jump on the stupid fucking box. 

Then I strike a match, stepping back as I throw it down. When it doesn't immediately go up in flames, I drop another. Then another. And another, until eventually, the cardboard is burning up and the flames are growing, catching onto the rather dry grass. I'm still crying, still screaming, though barely registering a word that's coming out of my own mouth, just sobbing as I try to choke out angry words. 

"Fuck you," I yell at the box, as if it's somehow responsible for all the shit happening. I know it isn't, but that box is all I have left of whatever is responsible. 

Or at least that's what my mind is telling me. I'll probably think differently, more logically, in a few hours. But right now, all I want to do is go sick. 

And it's working. 

Because watching that box burn somehow gives me comfort, watching the smoke flow up into the darkening sky is, somehow, making me feel a hell of a lot better. Phil doesn't love me? Fuck him. Connor fucked us up? Fuck him. My parents hate my guts? Who fucking cares? I back away as the fire grows, somehow not spreading onto the grass. I guess it's too damp to catch alight. The box continues to burn though, no doubt destroying everything inside. I don't care, even if it does. Those things meant nothing to me - my parents didn't even want me to know they existed. 

Fucking pricks.

Daniel!" The yell comes from inside, and takes me by complete surprise, although I should have expected it really. They're back. Of course they are. 

"Fuck off!" I find myself screaming back. I'll regret it in two hours, but at least, for once, I'm expressing my anger. I'm still sobbing, loud, choked up, childish sobs. 

I should be embarrassed, really, crying over boys - but here I am, and I can't stop it. 

"Daniel!" It's my dad, storming through the back door, angrier than I can remember seeing him. He's clenching his fists and is storming towards me, staring at the fire, and then back to me. It's only when he realizes what's burning that he stops in his tracks. "Daniel!" He repeats, louder. I only continue to sob, collapsing onto my arse in the grass. He's fixated on the fire, panicked and conflicted. 

Mum comes rushing out next, screaming incoherent sentences. Dad is yelling again too, but I'm zoned out, thinking only of what I've done. Somehow, I'm calming down. I look at the fire, which my dad is now stomping on, yelling out swear words. Mum is screaming at me, then at my dad. I can't tell who she's mad at. Probably me. 

That's reasonable. 

But I can't focus on that. All I can think about is what I've done. I've burnt it. I've destroyed my box. My things. My memories. My past. 

The box is near enough ash, beyond salvage. I can't decide if that's a good thing. But I'm not angry anymore. The rage is draining from me, and I can feel it. Now, there's just a hole where all the emotions once were. I look up at my parents, who are panicking and yelling. 

"You hid it from me," I say, monotonously, "That was my past, and you hid it from me." Mum stares at me, shutting the fuck up for once. She gulps, obviously trying to formulate a response of some sort. 

"You set it on fucking fire," Dad snaps, getting there first with his wonderfully thought out reply. "What the fuck were you thinking? Are you bloody mad? You could've hurt yourself-" 

"Why did you hide it from me?" I ask, my voice enough to shut my Dad up, which is rare. They're actually listening. Maybe all I needed to do was burn up a cardboard box. Is that the secret to getting your parents attention? Arson? "You knew I wanted to remember, and you wouldn't let me. You never showed me half of that box." 

"You weren't ready," Mum says, coming closer to me. I back away, shuffling on my bottom. She stops, her face crumpling. "We were planning on it! We never thought you'd find it this soon and-" 

"Well I found it," I scoff, motioning with one hand to the now burned out remains. "Got rid of it for you though, don't worry. I got rid of my own memories this time." 

"Daniel-" Dad snaps at me. I stand back up and walk towards the door. "Daniel don't you walk away from me." 

"What are you going to do?" I ask, genuinely curious. I stop and turn around, waiting for a reply. 

"We're going to talk this out right now," Dad says, "Right here, Daniel. We're going to talk about this. We're going to get-" 

"No we're not," I tell him, my voice flat. I'm drained of energy, to be honest. I don't have another fight in me right now. I'm all cried out tonight, and something tells me that my parents don't want to have this fight right now. They didn't even know I knew about the box of things from last year, and now they've come home and found it burnt. They were never going to best pleased, but it was my things that got destroyed, they can't get that mad. It's not like they wanted me to have them anyway. 

"Daniel-" But I'm already back in the house, and I'm not going back out. I go straight to my room and shut the door behind me. It's another five minutes before they come knocking, but when I tell them to leave me alone, they're surprisingly understanding. 

I kind of want to cry, but I can't. I don't have the energy to scream or punch my wall. Instead, I just lay there and think. There's nothing else I can do. You can only be so destructive in one night, and I think I've crossed my own line tonight. 

I shouldn't have destroyed the box. I should have cried it out. I should have punched a wall, knocked in a car window. But instead I chose to destroy my memories. These ones, I can't get back. 

But it isn't the end of the world. I'm still here. I still have those memories, somewhere, even if only in my head. 

Phil doesn't love me anymore. But I'm still here, and he once did. 

Connor isn't here anymore. But I am, and he's not too far away. I can see him again, even if not tomorrow. 

My parents might hate that I'm gay. But I'm still here, and I'm still gay. 

I can get through this. It's not the end of the world, even though sometimes it feels like it is. Even if I think the world is against me. It doesn't mean that it's ending. It doesn't mean every single thing will be bad forever. It just means I have to fight a little hard, or have a good cry if there's nothing else to do. 

Or, if I'm feeling really destructive, destroy some sentimental shit. That does the trick too, just with deeper consequences. 

Regardless, sometimes, I think I just need to remind myself that I'm okay. It's easy to forget that, I guess. 

Maybe I wasn't okay, maybe I'm not right now. That's okay too, but I will be one day. I'll be okay again. It's easy to forget that too. 

But I think, for the first time in a while, things are going to be okay. Mostly because they can't get any worse. 

We'll see. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it has been so long, I've just been busy to be honest with you all, but I'm hoping to half this at least almost finished by Christmas, then again I'm the worst ever at scheduling so let's not bet on that. I hope this was worth the wait, please fuel me (or strike me down, either works) with your wonderful comments and kudos!!!


	30. Good Choices Are Overrated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slurs are used.

Friday comes round quick enough.

I talked to Phil last night. He pretended like everything was okay, told me about his day and university. I told him about Nicks party and how Dana made me laugh today. We talked about some of my flashbacks, our memories. It was nice, but it wasn't the same. Something felt off, different. I didn't like it, and now I feel even worse than I did the other day.

I drag myself to school regardless, actually concerned for my grades again. We're getting another report card soon, and I don't want to fuck it all up again. 

School is only just tolerable, with Mack getting a snickers bar thrown at her face being the highlight of my day. (It's okay to laugh at it, she was fine). 

"It's Nick's tonight," I remind my mum when I get home. She's sat in the living room watching one of those shite quiz shows whilst doing a crossword - really making the most of her day off. "I'm sleeping at his." 

"Is his mother okay with that?" She asks, not looking up from the magazine. 

"Yeah," I say, thought I actually have no idea. I don't think his parents are home, so they probably won't even know about said party. I can't tell my mum that though, she'd only worry. 

"Is PJ sleeping? Can you go home with him tomorrow?" She continues to question. 

"Yeah and yeah," I reply, flopping down into the arm chair. "There's loads going, it'll be fine." She raises her eyebrows, but they stay fixed down onto the crossword puzzle. It's been like this all week, awkward as fuck. They won't talk to me about the box, and I won't bring it up. I already regret burning it, but I can't admit that yet.

"Alright then," She mumbles, "Do I need to make you some food or are you eating there?" 

"I'm eating there," I tell her, kicking off my shoes, "I'm going in like an hour." I stand back up and head to the stairs, about to go and get ready when she calls me back. 

"Dan," She says, "Come here a second." 

"What is it now?" I ask, sounding snappier than I intended. Mum looks at me, pursing her lips before sighing.

"Would you like your mobile phone back?" She asks. I nod, cautiously. Does she know I've been using it all week anyway? Probably not, but still... 

"Why?" I scoff, frowning at her. She looks at the kitchen door, and then back to me. 

"It's in the top corner cupboard," She tells me. I try to act like that's new information, raising my eyebrows at the statement. "You can have it back." I try to hold my small smile back.

"Why?" I repeat, curious as to why she's suddenly being all nice to me. It's not something I should take for granted.

"Because Daniel," She says, "I just think it's time I stopped trying to hide things from you." 

I smile at her, a genuine smile. I hope it tells her what I can't quite bring myself to, and then retrieve my mobile phone from the kitchen, as if it's the first time I've done so.

-

I get to Nick's house an hour early, mostly just for the sake of getting out of my own house. Nick doesn't mind, he's just hiding all the expensive ornaments. I help him out, shoving them in unused cupboards and under the sink. There are a lot more than I thought, but I never pictured Nick to come from such a nice place. He's one of the richer kids around here, his house is evidence enough of that.

"Who's coming tonight?" I ask him, when we're finished tidying around. He's laying out some alcohol, expensive wines that I've never heard of before. 

"Uhhh," He takes a minute to think, slamming a couple of bottles on the counter before actually responding. "There's you, Dana, Sammy, Peej, Clarky, Mackenzie, Tom and Hilda." 

"What about Freddy?" I ask. 

"He said he doesn't know," Nick says, "So he might show up, might not. Who knows?" 

"Fair enough," I mutter, picking up one of the bottles he's just put down. It looks far too fancy for me, but I'll probably try some anyway, despite my dislike of wine. I'll drink anything if it's going to get me drunk, because that's probably exactly what I need to take my mind off of Phil. 

"Do you like him?" He asks me. I frown at him, wondering what has made him question that.

"What do you mean?" 

"Do you really think Freddy is..." Nick searches for the word. I put the bottle down and lean back against the wall, waiting for him to figure out what he means. "I dunno...alright?" 

"Yeah," I say, cautious. I don't know how I'm supposed to answer this. I can't really tell how Nick feels about Freddy, judging by the question he's not a huge fan - why else would he care if I liked him or not? But when they're around each other, they get along just fine. I'm not sure what to make of it all. "I don't really know him that well, but he's always been nice to me. Why? Do you not like him?" 

"Oh no," Nick shrugs, "I think he's decent. I was just curious, you know? Connor always fucking hated him, so by default Clarky and PJ did too." 

"Why did Connor hate him?" I ask, as if I don't already know. I'm just curious what everyone else thought of it all.

"Nobody really knew," Nick tells me, lowering his voice for some reason. It's not as if anyone else is here. "It was all a bit...messy. Loads of bullshit went round, cos you know, one minute, they were best friends apparently, always off together, posting photos together and everything, proper gay you know?" He laughs. I chuckle along, as if that isn't exactly what it fucking was. Gay. But Nick doesn't mean it like that. Hell, I doubt that idea has even occurred to him.

"So what happened?" I quiz, frowning as if I'm really confused by it all. Maybe if I didn't know, I would really be confused. 

"Nobody knows," Nick explains, "One minute, they were best pals, next minute Freddy acts as if Connor doesn't even exist. I remember once, like when they first must have fallen out, I said Connor's name and Freddy proper flinched, like he was really sensitive about it. It was fucking weird." He's still talking quietly, as if it's some huge secret.

"There has to be some explanation." I'm just spurring him on, trying to figure out what he really thinks. Surely, they can't be that naive. "You can't just cut someone off for no reason." 

"Everyone thought it was because they both fancied Hilda," Nick says, "That was the story that went round." He even sounds doubtful.

Maybe Nick isn't as blind as I thought. Maybe none of them are.

"Do you think it's true?" 

"No fucking way," Nick scoffs, looking at me with a serious expression. He's being honest with me, and I appreciate that. He didn't have to be, but I knew he had to know something. It was obvious. "Hilda and Connor used to be close, like in year nine, but they never fancied each other. Hilda liked Freddy, but he was never interested in her, even called her a mutt. There was no way they fell out like that over a girl, especially when neither of them even got with her, you know?" I nod along.

"So what do you think?" It's what I've wanted to ask since the start of this conversation. The million dollar question, as they say. Nick looks at me, biting his lip. He looks genuinely afraid to say it. 

"You'll think I'm mad," He sighs, shaking his head. I grin at him, reassuringly.

"Try me." 

"I've never said this to anyone before," Nick begins, "I don't think it needs to be said though, to be fair. Everyone used to call Connor a fag, but he never knew about it. It was just us lads chatting bullshit really, Connor wasn't actually a fag, you know?" Oh boy, I know.

"So why did they say it?" I ask.

"Banter," Nick shrugs, "Everyone gets called fag. No harm. He never liked it though, and I always remembered that. Cos he could take jokes, but never that, and he's not the social justice type, you know? So then when him and Freddy were mates, Sammy made a joke about them bumming and Con proper psyched out. Then Freddy started calling him a bummer, and he always just laughed at it when Freddy said it. That was only about a month before they stopped talking." He's got it all figured out, and I can't fault him there. 

"You reckon it's true?" I ask, careful not to put words in his mouth. Nick nods, looking almost guilty.

"I think Connor liked him," Nick says, "You know, in the gay way. I think Freddy found out and was scared, so he just cut him off. Freddy definitely isn't gay, him and Mackenzie lost it together in year ten - around the same time all this went down, actually. I mean, maybe it is something I've pulled out of my arse, but it makes more sense than any of the other stories I've heard thrown about." It does, but it's still not what happened.

I think it's for the best though, that nobody ever does find out what happened. Connor never told anyone, other than me. Freddy certainly didn't. Mack didn't either, somehow. That's how it should stay. I don't want to put any ideas into Nicks head, but I am really curious about just how many people really believe Connor is gay.

"I've never told anyone that before," Nick continues, "So don't go spreading shit round Dan." 

"I won't," I promise him, "I don't cause trouble, and if it is true I especially don't want to go round saying stuff. It must have been awful, for them both." 

"Yeah," Nick huffs, "I mean, I'm not the only person in the world that thinks Connor is bent. That's been going round for ages, low key though. It was just something that got said at two in the morning when everyone was stoned at parties, you know? Rumors that people started. One lad in our year swears he saw Connor and Declan Wilcox snogging behind Tesco, but that was like, the unspeakable secret. You weren't allowed to mention it, you know? Declan smacked someone the first time it was said, and nobody ever talked about it again." 

"Would you care?" I ask him, "If Connor was gay, would it matter?" 

"Nah," Nick says, and it fills me with relief. "Everyone thinks PJ's bent too. Bi. It doesn't matter to me. Why? Do you care? Because if you do, that's a bit shit-" 

"No," I cut in, holding in a laugh, "I really don't care."

"Nobody does these days," Nick says, but he's wrong. People do care. People care too much, and it's destroyed lives. If Nick was right, and I fucking wish he was, then Connor would still be at school with us, and everything would be normal. "It's good. Let people shag who they want. Free love and all that bollocks. Yay for liberalism." I laugh at that.

"So your parents wouldn't care if you were gay?" I ask. He'd be lucky, if they didn't. Most do, but then again, maybe he has a point - people don't care like they used to. People our age especially don't care. Some people are lucky enough to have liberal parents. Mine don't really fall into that category, and there isn't much I can do about that. I'm just unlucky.

"My cousin is a lesbian," Nick scoffs, "I think it would be a bit hypocritical of them to shun me when they love her so much." 

"Fair enough," I say, smiling. "How come you all use the word fag and stuff then? Because, isn't that a bit homophobic? Maybe that's why Connor hated it." 

"We don't mean it like that though," Nick protests, "It's just banter. Fag is just a word, like prick or twat or nonce." 

"Well yeah but..." I don't know how to argue with him. It would be difficult to do so without accidentally coming out to him, or at the very least giving him reason to suspect I'm gay too. I don't want that yet, even if he doesn't care like he says. It's just how they are, they don't mean it to be offensive like that. I suppose intention comes before action, and I'm going to have to get used to people saying it, sadly. "I dunno." 

-

Soon enough, everyone has arrived. We try the expensive wine, and within half a bottle PJ is throwing up. Hilda goes to the bathroom with him, patting his back and stroking his hair whilst he vomits into the bog. I'd pity him, but I'm a bit too pissed by then.

The expensive shit is stronger than the cheap shit that I'm used to drinking, and within the first hour it's safe to say I'm drunk. Drunk enough to not give a shit anymore. That's kind of evident, as me and Dana battle it out on Just Dance. 

"You better have the fucking wrist straps on those wii remotes," Nick yells. Dana laughs, holding up the loose remote - no wrist strap. I have mine on, a caution I always take after a tragic incident involving the wii remote and the TV screen circa 2010. 

"Fuck your rules," Dana shouts back, whilst absolutely acing the routine to toxic. It's obvious she's had more experience than me, which I personally think is really unfair, but the narrow difference in our score says otherwise.

"He's catching up to you Dane," Mack gasps.

"Destroy her Dan," Tom calls, "Work those hips baby! Yes!" I laugh, but keep focused on the dance, making it my sole mission to win her at this. 

"Fuck my life," Dana moans upon seeing the final scores, "You know it's a bad sign when even Dan is beating you on a fucking dancing game-"

"Didn't you drop GCSE dance?" Tom asks her, laughing.

"For a good fucking reason mate," She huffs.

"You still won," I remind her, "By like one hundred points, but still." 

"Don't try to comfort me," She sighs, sounding deadly serious, "I can only be consoled with alcohol, Daniel. Now beer me bitches." She's smiling again, as always. She drops the remote and flops down in the arm chair.

"There's no beer left," Mack says, "Hilda downed the last can so we're stuck with the shit wine-"

"That's expensive as fuck," Nick cuts in, passing her a bottle. She has a sip and grimaces.

"Who drank all the fucking beer?" Dana asks, "I can't drink this all night, fuck sake, I'll end up like PJ-"

"He's fine," Mack sneers, "Just a lightweight, what did you expect?"

"Thought Clarky would be out first to be honest," I say, looking around the room for Clarky. I'm not actually sure where he is right now. I can't say I care enough to go looking just yet either. 

"Same actually," Tom says, "He's in the garden though, taking it like a champ." 

"What's he doing in the garden?" Nick sighs, rolling his eyes.

"Trampoline," Tom informs him, smirking. Nick shakes his head, then takes the bottle from Dana and has another swig before handing it to me. I do the same, swallowing as much as I can handle before passing it onto Mack. It's too disgusting to drink a lot of. 

"I might join-" I begin, before getting rudely interrupted.

"Was that the door?" Dana cuts in, walking towards the hall. Nick and Tom follow, but I stay in the living room with Mack, who's setting up another round of Just Dance. I don't think I can hack any more of it, it's far too energetic and I've just played three rounds. Not that trampolines don't require the same amount of physical activity, but I'd argue trampolines are more fun.

"You babe!" I hear Dana scream. It's enough to make me turn around and peer into the hallway. Stood at the door, with two four packs of beer in hand, is Freddy. I smile and walk through.

"Hi," I call, dragging out the 'i'. He grins at me and hands Tom the cans. "You're late as fuck-"

"Punctuality isn't my strong point," Freddy shrugs, kicking off his shoes. "I brought an apology though." He motions to the beers and then walks into the living room. We follow him. Mack doesn't even look up as we pass through the front room.

"You missed it mate," Nick tells him, "PJ is already spewing up, our beer is all gone and Dana absolutely roasted Dan at Just Dance-"

"Not the last time," I correct him, "It was close as fuck-"

"Embarrassingly close," Tom agrees. 

"I'm gutted," Freddy mutters, sarcasm laced in his tone. He puts the packs on the side in the kitchen and grabs the remaining bottle of wine. "Trust you to have the fancy shit Nick." 

"Tastes like piss, don't bother," I say, but Freddy tries it anyway, only pulling a slightly disgusted face when he swallows. 

"That's not what I imagine piss to taste like," He replies, having another sip immediately after. Fair enough. I smirk and then walk up to the window. They start a conversation about some irrelevant shite, whilst I stare out, watching Clarky. He's more interesting than whatever they're discussing. 

Clarky, bless him, is simply sat on the trampoline, throwing a busted ball up and down and watching it bounce. He's taken his glasses off, and he's got a can beside him. I grab one of Freddy's then go into the conservatory, and out the back door. Clarky looks up when he sees me, and forces a smile.

"You looked lonely," I say to him, climbing up onto the trampoline. He shrugs.

"I miss Connor," He sighs, "And I've never been this drunk. I'm scared Dan, I'm either going to throw up or do something ridiculously humiliating." 

"Which is worse?" I ask, cracking open the can. At first I think it's going to fizz up, but I get lucky and it only froths up a little bit. I take a sip.

"Missing him," Clarky mumbles. I choke, cough, then swallow.

"No," I scoff, "I meant like, throwing up or embarrassing yourself." 

"Oh," He says, then, "Well, I'm used to embarrassing myself, so probably throwing up. I can't give them anything else for them to bully me about. That's one thing I've never done, thrown up." 

"You can pick on PJ for it," I say, giggling. He nods, the rubs his eyes. "Can you see?" 

"A bit," He replies, "It's dark anyway."

"Why did you take them off?" 

"They steamed up." 

"Why?" 

"I cried."

"Why?" 

"Connor," He mumbles, and I don't bother grilling for deeper explanation. "I don't miss people much Dan. Like, when my cousin moved to Australia, I thought I'd miss her loads, but I don't. When my great granddad died, I thought I'd miss him loads, but I don't. Now Connor is gone and I didn't know I was going to miss him this much. They don't tell you about how much it hurts, because I've never felt this bad about it before and-" He's crying again.

Suddenly, my own good mood is gone, and the ache in my own chest comes back. I know how he feels, and I really wish that I didn't. There's nothing I can do though, nothing anyone can do, really. It is what it is. I put my hand on his shoulder, using the other one to have another sip of my drink.

"I miss people all the time," I say, "It's almost alien to not feel that hole anymore. It doesn't get better, but you get used to it, and you accept it." 

"Do you miss your old friends?" He asks. I think about Phil and Cat and Chris and everyone back in Manchester. I think about all the memories I've regained, all the times I recall we had, all the laughs. The ache in my stomach gets a tiny bit stronger.

"Yeah," I reply, honestly. "Constantly." 

"Are you going to see them again?" He asks. I shrug, feeling my self welling up. I can't cry again, especially not here, now. I'm not sure how they'd react, but I don't wish to find out either. 

"I don't know," I mutter, thinking of Phil. I want to see them all again. I want to see them all the time, like I used to. It's not that simple though, and I think I've come to accept that now. "You're going to see Connor again though. He's not dead, and he's not far away. You just might have to wait a while." 

"I know," Clarky sighs. There's a long pause after that. I drink more and Clarky starts playing with the ball again. "Don't you ever feel like just going back to Manchester and finding them all?"

"I did," I say, "Things didn't go to plan. No thanks to Peej, but you know, shit happens." 

"Could you not try again?" He suggests, raising his eyebrows at me. He looks so much different without his glasses, which are instead laid out on the trampoline besides him, probably in serious danger of getting hit by the ball. He looks older, somehow, more mature. I trust his judgement more. 

"Phil isn't even in Manchester," I tell him, as if he's even going to know who Phil is. "He's here in London, I know where, I just...he doesn't want to see me." My voice cracks again.

"He would do," Clarky scoffs, "He would if he saw you. He's probably just scared or used to life without you. Doesn't mean he doesn't miss you. I bet he does. I'd miss you." 

"Thanks," I mumble. "But still, he said I shouldn't go and find him, which is dumb because he was so fucking in love with me, and he keeps saying about how he misses me and all that, but it has to be bollocks because if he missed me then he'd want me back and-" I'm crying again. I'm starting to think that's unavoidable when it comes to thinking too hard about Phil. Clarky hasn't even flinched at what I've just told him, sat beside me nodding away as if he gets it. I know he doesn't, but I'd rather he pretend for now.

"Why don't you just go and see him?" Clarky asks, "If you know where he is, why not just go?" I know it's a terrible idea. I know all the things that could go wrong, all the fucked up possibilities. But right now, in my slightly drunken and over emotional state of mind, I think it's the most wonderful idea I've heard all week.

"I don't know," I say. I'm ignoring every rational thought giving me several ideas as to why I should not 'just go'. "How would I get there?" Is the best I can come up with.

"Book a taxi," He suggests, as if it's easy. Taxis are kind of tough to get a hold of at this time on a Friday night, but it's a possibility if I'm serious enough about this. "I think Hilda has one coming. Steal hers. She'll live." 

"I don't know what I'd say to him," I mutter, genuinely taking the idea into consideration. Clarky opens his mouth, about to reply, but I never get to hear what he's going to say. Instead, the conservatory door opens again, and it distracts us both, causing us to look and see who's coming out.

It's Nick.

I smile at him as he walks over, the wine bottle in hand. "This party is a fucking mess." 

"What's going on?" I ask. 

"Nothing," He replies, "PJ is crying into my toilet. Freddy is already pissed and he's chatting shit about half of our year. Dana's nearly smashed my TV on Just Dance and the rest are just sat in quiet conversation."

"What usually happens at parties?" Clarky questions, and I remember that this is his first time at one of these. Yet he's sat outside, and (was) alone. It almost makes me feel worse to think that I've only been here three months and I've been to more parties with his friends than he has.

"Fighting, snogging - shagging if we're really pushing the boat out," Nick chuckles, "Just generally going a bit sick."

"Who's shagged?" Clarky spits, raising his eyebrows.

"Nobody here," Nick says, rolling his eyes, "But there are usually way more people. I didn't want to have everyone though, too much hassle- Actually, Mack and Freddy did and Dana went down on me but I don't know if that counts as actual shagging-"

"It does," Clarky cuts in, eyebrows still raised in shock, "And why the fuck have you never mentioned that before?"

"Not something I bring up in casual conversation," Nick shrugs, smirking. I think I'd actually heard that rumour flying about, but I take most things I hear with a pinch of salt. After all, Mack and Freddy did lie about having sex. I wouldn't be surprised if they weren't the only ones.

"I bet Hilda flipped," Clarky sneers, "Fuck, when was that? Was she good? I bet she is, with lips like that-"

"Shut up," I groan, cringing at the thought. I hate hearing other boys talk about girls like that, but maybe I'm more defensive because it's Dana and she's...well, decent. 

"Hilda doesn't know," Nick says, "She'd fucking murder Dana. And me, actually. I think she wants to get with me tonight, dunno if I'm feeling it though." 

"I wouldn't say no to a girl like that," Clarky sighs, shaking his head at Nick. Hilda is really attractive, so he has a point but I have a feeling Clarky is more attracted to her big tits and tiny waist than her actual pretty face and sweet personality.

"You wouldn't say no to any girl," I scoff. Nick laughs, a proper laugh, and I feel slightly better, very very slightly. I'm still fucking sad about Phil though, and I know it's going to take more than a can of shit beer and a decent conversation with two alright friends to distract me from that.

"You got me there," Clarky agrees, smirking along. I'm glad he hasn't taken offense to it, but that probably has more to do with the fact he's so used to it by now. I know he's had worse things said to and about him.

"It was like, mid summer," Nick explains, "I think it was one of Sammy's bashes. I couldn't really tell if she was good though, I mean, I was a bit too pissed to really think about it. Only lasted about three minutes, but you know, a BJ is a BJ." 

"Fuck," Clarky says, chuckling. I raise my eyebrows, but I'm unsure what to actually say.

"Shall we go back inside?" Nick asks, "I'm freezing my balls off out here. Only came out to ask if you wanted any pizza. It came like five minutes ago." 

"I'm not hungry," I say, but we all go back inside anyway. I finish my beer, then another one. Then I move onto the wines again. They're horrific, but they're making me feel slightly better, as if things don't matter at all. I haven't felt careless in such a long time. 

It's about twelve when I find myself stumbling into the bathroom. PJ is still in there, sat in the bath crying. I join him, curling up at the other end. He smiles at me, but he's sobbing and it stinks of sick.

"You're plastered," I sneer, laughing at him. He raises his eyebrows at me.

"I am not," He protests, "I think I've thrown it all back up. And you're worse than me, you even sound pissed." 

"I'm not pissed!" I lie, far too defensive for someone who's almost drank a full bottle of wine and four cans of shit beer, which is a lot to say I'm a weakling when it comes to alcohol. It's quite surprising that I'm not the one sat in bath with sick down my top. "Where did Hilda go?" 

"Dunno," PJ sighs, "Clarky said he needed to tell her something." 

"Why did she leave you on your own?" I ask, frowning. He shrugs. I feel bad for him, nobody should be left on their own when they're ill. "You look sad."

"I am," He says, monotonously. "I think she was bored. Clarky is definitely more entertaining. Especially pissed. As if I'm missing all of that." 

"It's not that great," I scoff, shaking my head. "Come here though." I want to make him feel better, that's all. I open my arms and he crawls to me, which is more awkward than I originally anticipated, even in this bath - which is twice the size of my own. PJ is cuddly though, so I don't really care when his sicked up shirt is against mine. It'll wash.

"I hate this," He moans, "I want to feel better." 

"You will," I say, as if I have any idea. He's probably going to feel shit all night. I have no idea how much he had to drink, but it must have been a lot. More than me, anyway. "It'll be fine. You'll be fine."

"I haven't been sick for an hour," He says, "I just feel it." 

"Can you please try not to throw up on me?" I request, which I feel is fair. He chuckles into my chest. I shuffle a bit so that we're laying down. It's a bit awkward on my neck this way, but PJ doesn't feel as heavy, so there are pros and cons.

"Won't," He mumbles into me. "Promise." We lay there for a bit longer, and I close my eyes, thinking about how much I wish it was Phil laid with me right now. I try to push it away, but he's impossible to get rid of. Phil. Always in my fucking head. 

Maybe that's what I'd say.

Maybe I'd tell him to fuck off out of head.

Like that would work at all.

Seeing him will just make me think of him more. But a small part of me wants that. It feels almost worth it.

"Can we stay like this forever?" PJ asks.

"Sure," I say, but it's actually uncomfortable as fuck. "If it's going to make you feel better."

"It won't," He mutters, but then he raises his head a little. "I know what would, but you're too drunk for that."

"I'm not drunk," I spit, nudging him. He chuckles. We both know it isn't true, not even close.

"You still wouldn't let me," He sighs, putting his head back on my chest. 

"Let you what?" I ask. Nothing could possibly sound like a bad idea to me at this point, and I don't know if that's because I am in fact drunk, or because my unrequited love for Phil has left me feeling self destructive and pissed off. Maybe a bit of both?

"Kiss you," PJ whispers it, as if he's a child saying a swear word for the first time. My first response is to laugh. "Shut up." 

"I kissed you the first time," I recall, "I don't know why I did that."

"You never think about things," PJ huffs, "Then you wonder why it all goes tits up." 

"Don't psychoanalyze me," I say, "I'm aware of my flaws." 

"You don't try to change them," He mumbles. 

"Persistence is one of them," I tell him, smirking to myself. He giggles. 

"Mine too," He says, and then he's kissing me again.

It's weird at first, awkward and uncomfortable. He's holding my head to his, his hand in my hair and the other on my shoulder. Mine rest awkward on his shoulders as I try to hold my head up. I'm not pulling away. Not even when we start using tongue and I can taste the gross wine and a hint of puke. Not even he rolls over so he's on top of me. Not even when he's practically moaning into my mouth.

And I know that I should.

Maybe that's another flaw of mine. Doing things even though I know they're bad. Always willing to take the risk, just out of pure curiosity, regardless of any possible consequences. I know they won't hurt me this time though. They'll hurt PJ. He'll be the one devastated when I wake up and detest myself for this, when I tell him I don't want it to happen again.

We show no sign of stopping right now though, hands everywhere and legs entwining, breaking away for barely a second to catch our breaths before pressing together again, shamelessly desperate.

We probably wouldn't have stopped at all. I don't know how far we would've gone, how far gone I was, but I'll never know. I won't think about it. 

We're interrupted before anything else can transpire, and I know I'll be grateful for that later. It's the screaming that makes us break away, PJ pulling off and sitting up. I copy him, wiping my lips.

"What the fuck?" He mumbles. I climb out of the tub and help him stand. He's still drunk, his movements make it clear, swaying unsteadily as I help him climb out.

"It sounds like Hilda," I say, wiping my lips again. PJ nods, then smacks a hand over his mouth. I look at him, concerned and confused. He's gone pale again. "Are you alright Peej?" 

He isn't. He sits down, crouching with his head hung over the toilet, making sounds that are enough to make me feel sick. He's throwing up again, the sound of his vomit washed out by the sounds of screaming outside. 

"I'm going to go see what's happening," I tell him. He nods, but doesn't look up. I feel bad for leaving him, but I'm too curious about the screaming. I shut the bathroom door and head into the living room, where it sounds as if it's coming from. I'm right.

Hilda and Dana are stood, yelling at each other. Nick is the only one not in the room (aside from PJ), and I automatically know what this is about. 

"Fucking calm down!" Tom is yelling, grabbing Hilda by her arm. She tries to shake him off, but he doesn't let go, instead pulling her into a hug.

"You fucking cow," Dana spits at her, "As if you think any of that had something to do with you!" 

"You knew she liked him," Tom says, patting Hilda's back as she sobs into his chest. I frown at the situation, trying to weigh it up in my head.

"The feeling obviously wasn't mutual," Dana protests, "So if you have a problem, take it up with him. I don't live my life trying to keep you happy Hilda, get fucking over it-"

"You slag," Hilda scoffs, pulling away from Tom, who sighs at her. "Fuck sake, should've fucking known you'd do something like this to me! How many times did it happen?"

"Just the once," Dana says, "And don't act like you'd get friend of the year award either-"

"Shut the fuck up," Hilda snaps, cutting in, "At least I'm not a whore. Fuck sake, who haven't you been on your knees for-"

"Don't fucking start," Freddy cuts in, dragging Dana back. She looks genuinely angry, and I've never seen her like that before. I make a mental note to never piss her off. She would definitely deck me, and everyone else here, if necessary.

"You can fuck off as well-" 

"You're the one starting shit," Freddy snaps at her, "Just pipe the fuck down! Nobody cares that she blew Nick. They obviously don't care about it - he's fucked off to his room to avoid talking about it - so why do you? You're embarrassing yourself." 

"Fuck off, you fucking faggot-" Hilda hisses. Tom takes her in again, and she's for real crying again. I kind of feel like crying too, to be honest. Dana sighs and grabs a bottle, takes a swig, and then walks into the kitchen. Freddy follows her, stone faced and bright red. I follow Freddy, the idea of being in the room with Hilda in such a state unsettling me. I know she didn't mean faggot like that, but maybe she did, and either way, she used the word to attack him and that isn't okay. She can fuck off. 

"I think Clarky told her," I say to them. Dana rolls her eyes.

"Little ginger fuck," She mutters. Freddy hands her a slice of pizza, she accepts it and begins to eat with the enthusiasm of a wild animal post hibernation.

"He's just stirring shit," Freddy sighs, "Where were you when it all kicked off?" He looks up at me and I feel as if he knows, like he can just see it in my eyes. Are my lips all red? Is it obvious? Do I stink of vomit too?

"Just making sure PJ was alright," I say, and it's not exactly a lie. In fact, that's exactly what I was doing.

"And is he?" Freddy asks.

"No," I tell them, "He was throwing up when I left." 

"Nice," Freddy says, "What about you? Are you fine?" 

"No," I say again, blunt as ever, "I'm in a very destructive mood. And yourself?"

"Just sad," He shrugs, as if it's no big deal. I suppose I spoke with the same carelessness. Dana rolls her eyes at us both, still ramming the pizza in. "I miss Connor." 

"Me too," I huff, "I miss Phil more." 

"Who was Phil?" He asks. 

"My boyfriend from Manchester," I reply, forgetting Dana has no idea I'm even into boys. She doesn't even flinch though, continuing as if I'd said nothing at all. No reaction is better than a bad reaction, I suppose. "He's living in London now though. I want to go and see him."

"Why don't you?" Freddy questions me, tilting his head as if he's genuinely interested.

"I'm not sure," I sigh. Dana stands up, wiping her mouth.

"I'm going to check on Peej," She announces, strolling towards the bathroom. There's a silence until we hear the door shut behind her.

"I want to go and find Connor," Freddy whispers, as if he doesn't want anyone else to hear. "I've been thinking, you know, maybe if I go to his house one Sunday, his parents go to church. He doesn't, not ever. I used to go over every Sunday-"

"Me too," I cut in, smiling at the memories, although they make me more sad than anything else. I don't exactly miss it, but I do miss Connor, and they remind me Phil, who I miss more than anything else.

"Do you think he'd be in?" Freddy asks me. I evaluate, wondering whether his parents would still bother dragging him to church. It's a tough one, I don't know his parents well enough to judge.

"I think it's worth a try," I tell him, "Worst case scenario, his Dad tells you to fuck off." 

"Right," Freddy chuckles at the idea. There's another awkward pause. "I regret ignoring him. So bad." 

"I think he'll forgive you," I say, trying to be reassuring even in my own drunken state. 

"I know he will," Freddy says, "I just...I don't know, I feel like we've wasted so much time. Like why did I do that? Why did I waste so long? Why did I let him do the things he did when it hurt me? I never even told him that it hurt me." 

"Maybe that was what he wanted to hear," I mumble, looking up at him. Freddy is staring down into the pizza box, nodding. "Sometimes people are like that. They want to know you still care before they admit it first." 

"Do you think that's the case with Phil?" He asks me. I gulp. It hadn't occurred to me, actually.

Not until now.

And now...

Well.

"I think I'm going to find out," I tell him, "Tonight, actually, if you want to tag along."

"Well, I better not let you go alone," Freddy says, smiling at me. 

And that, my friends, is how only forty minutes later, I find myself at Kings halls of residence, with Freddy by my side, wondering how the fuck I could get any more self destructive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a full week late, so you can tell my schedule is going well. (On the bright side, this one was extra long!) 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it, and I hope it was worth the wait, and the next one will definitely be late too, I don't even have an excuse, I just know it will be. Comments and votes are loved and valued, as always X


	31. The Wall and The Door

"Which building is it?" Freddy asks me. 

That's when it hits me. 

I have no idea which building, or number he lives at. I have no idea what I'll do when I find out. I have no idea what I want to say or do when I see Phil.

I have no idea what I'm doing here, at all.

But the taxi has gone, we're out of money and I can't turn back now. This is it. It's going to happen, tonight. 

Freddy is staring at me with far too much concern, leaning against the wall of the first building whilst waiting for me to formulate some sort of response.

"I..." I can't get the words out. I'm all choked up, but I don't want to cry again. 

"Shall I go and ask around?" He suggests. I nod, forcing a smile at him to show some gratitude. "Who is it again? Phil?"

"And Quinn," I say. He nods, and goes inside the building, which upon thinking about it, is the most likely building for it to be. There are no stairs up into it, unlike most of the others, and it appears to be the biggest.

I wait a second, taking a deep breath and bracing myself before following him. He seems way more confident about this than I do, but then again, he's got nothing to lose here. This isn't his life we're on a mission to destroy, it's mine, and I'm considerably calm about that really.

We go to the first door, but nobody opens up. I suppose they're in bed, it is about one am, after all. 

Whoever lives next door doesn't have that excuse, because we can here the Christmas music blasting from outside of it. Freddy knocks with extra force, trying to make it heard over the music. Somehow, it is, and a small girl with wild curly hair and the most freckles I've ever seen answers. She's wearing a Santa hat and stinks of weed, and she's definitely had a better night than I have. She grins at us both. 

"Hi," Freddy says, far too over confident, "So sorry to disturb you-"

"You're not disturbing me," She cuts in, swinging the door open, "Did Megan invite you? She said-"

"No," Freddy insists, "We're not here for you, we're just looking for somebody."

"Nobody is here," She says, with less joy in her tone, "Max left at ten if that's who you're here for. He took ket and said he felt sick, but you know Max-"

"We don't," I cut in, "We're looking for someone called Phil, he lives in this building right?" 

"Fuck knows," The girl scoffs. I look to Freddy, who simply shrugs.

"Okay," He sighs, "Thanks anyway." We step away and turn the corner, moving onto the next apartment. I think Phil would have one downstairs, considering he's in wheelchair, but I can't be sure. There are only another two apartments on this floor, we can't be far off.

"This one?" Freddy suggests, walking towards the nearest door. I nod, following him. He knocks again and immediately someone opens the door. It's a man this time. He's tall and pretty, I notice that first - how absolutely gorgeous he is. He's got dirty blonde hair that's sticking up at odd angles, but in the cutest way possible. His face is covered with scattered freckles and his eyes are a deep brown. I only notice because he's rubbing them.

But I knew before I had even seen his eyes.

I knew as soon as I saw that face. It was a gut feeling, and I was right. The description Phil gave me was enough for me to know, with at least a little confidence. 

This is Quinn.

And I've found Phil.

A lump forms in my throat, and I look to Freddy, desperately urging him to speak, though I'm not sure what I want him to say. I don't even know what I want to say.

I just feel...sick.

Freddy is staring at me. I look up to see Quinn giving me the exact same, wary expression. He opens his mouth to speak and I can't quite believe it.

This is him. This is the man who Phil fell in love with. He's the reason I can't have him anymore. I should feel overwhelming anger, I should want to kick him to floor and scream in his face. I should want to fucking cry and curl up. 

I don't.

I just feel dizzy.

And for the firs time all night, empty.

"Are you alright?" He asks. I nod, but I'm not. I'm not alright.

I open my mouth, trying to force words out, but they never come. 

Instead, I release half the alcohol I've consumed tonight back up in the form of bright orange vomit, all down the front door of Phil's apartment.

There's nothing quite like a big entrance, right? 

I feel myself stumble forward, but Quinn grabs me, steadying me. I start to cry, but it's more from embarrassment than anything else. I should just apologize and go home, never come back. Quinn would never know it was me, he'd just remember a drunken student puking over his door. He wouldn't remember anything else, not the small details. I'd leave him with Phil, let them grow old together and never return. 

But I don't.

I couldn't turn back, even if I wanted to. Quinn is guiding me into there apartment, Freddy cautiously following us. He has no idea what's going on, and I have no idea how to inform him. 

"Hey, hey, hey," Quinn says, sitting me down on his couch. I look around the apartment. It's nice, simple yet homely. Bookshelves cover two of the walls, one of which is half vinyls. Quinn buys a new one every month, I remember that. There are plants every where, Phil used to love nature. The room is spacious, they probably need it to be so Phil can get around in his chair. There are photos all over. Phil is on most, as is Quinn.

I feel a stab in my gut. I'm looking around, panicked and confused and sad. Quinn is knelt in front of me, hands on my shoulders, trying to calm me down. I'm crying. Freddy is stood awkwardly by the couch, unsure of what to do or say. 

"What's wrong?" Quinn asks, "Who are you both? Do you go here? Did you take something?" He's caring.

Good. Phil deserves someone like that. Better than I could ever be. 

He looks up to Freddy, frowning. "What's going on?" 

"He's looking for his friend," Freddy explains, "I...I'm not sure why he's crying. Or why he was sick." I'm glad he didn't mention any names, if that counts for anything at all.

"Have you been drinking?" Quinn questions. Freddy nods. "How old are you?" 

"Sixteen," Freddy admits, blushing, "But Dan is seventeen so-" Quinn looks at me, concern washing over his face. I'm crying harder though, so maybe that's why. I doubt the mention of the name Dan is going to trigger anything within him - lots of boys are called Dan. He wouldn't see a correlation, not right away. At least, I hope not.

"Who are you looking for?" 

I shoot a look to Freddy, a simple warning.

"Max," He replies, and relief floods through me. Freddy is a fucking genius, and I definitely owe him one for this. 

"Betty's friend Max?" Quinn asks, "Ket head Max?"

"That's the one," Freddy says, nodding. I don't feel like laughing, but if I wasn't at my lowest emotional point ever, I would probably have at least cracked a smirk. "It's fine though, he's not here so we can just leave-"

"Are you sure?" Quinn sneers, "Look at your friend, kid. He's absolutely smashed, you should take him to a hospital, get his stomach pumped-"

"I'm fine," I sob, the only words I can manage. I really can't go to a hospital, and it's not like I even need to! It wasn't the alcohol that made me sick anyway. It was Quinn. It was the idea of no longer being loved by Phil. It was overwhelming jealousy. It was the sudden realization of exactly what I'd done by coming here. I can't explain that though, can I?

"Let me get you a drink," Quinn sighs. The kitchen is next door, and it only takes him a minute to return with a bottle of water. I don't have a chance to say anything to Freddy, who's now sat beside me on the couch. This is probably way weirder for him - for all he knows, we're sat in a random strangers apartment accepting drinks.

Only I know better, and I wonder if Quinn does too. Was it the name? Did he click on? Or is he just naturally this kind to any stranger who shows up on his doorstep and vomits? 

"Thank you," I mumble as he hands me the water. It's ice cold, and actually very refreshing, but it doesn't make me feel any better. I knew it wouldn't, but I'm grateful for the attempt. "Sorry for puking-"

"It's fine," He says, chuckling, "I used to get like you in my first year here, stops being fun once you wake up in a strangers bath tub covered in puke and blood." Freddy laughs.

"Isn't that what uni is all about?" Freddy asks, smirking. Quinn shrugs.

"For some," He replies, grabbing a pack of tissues off the table. He hands them to me and I wipe my mouth, then my top, where splashes of the sick ended up landing. "I just grew up. Got boring." 

"Quinn!" The voice comes from the next room. My head shoots up at the sound of it. I'd recognize it anywhere.

Phil.

"Oh gosh," Quinn mumbles, "Right, I'll be two minutes. Are you going to be okay? Do you want me to call you a taxi?" 

"We've got no money," Freddy sighs, "And we can't accept that from you, don't worry, we'll be fine." He stands back up, and tugs at my arm, urging me to do the same, but I don't.

I can't physically bring myself to do that.

"Dan, did you say it was?" Quinn asks. I nod, the only thing I can bring myself to do. I'm scared that I'll open my mouth and throw up again. I can't believe I just heard Phil speak, like actual words, around me - not over the phone or repeated in my mind. For the first time in a year, there's only a wall between us. He's here, and so am I. Finally.

"I'll get my dad to pick us up," Freddy says, "Come on Dan, are you going to be sick again?" I shrug. Quinn rushes into the kitchen (I assume) and comes back out with a bucket. 

"Not down the door again, please," He groans, "Right, I'll be a minute, please uh, don't touch anything." 

I find it odd how trusting he is of us. Not many students would be willing to let two drunken teenagers sit in their living room after one threw up down their front door. 

Surely, he has an idea of who I am? 

Freddy begins to wonder around, looking at all the photos, then the books on the shelf. "He's fit as fuck," Freddy mumbles, pointing at a photo of Quinn and some girl that I don't recognize. I would usually have laughed, but I can't bring myself to. It not as if he's wrong, Quinn looks as if he's been hand crafted by God, but I fucking hate that. 

Jealous seems like such a strong word for it, but it also feels fitting. 

"Are you actually going to be sick again?" Freddy asks. I shrug, the only response I can manage right now. I fucking hope I'm not sick again, but who knows at this point? "How much have you had to drink tonight?" 

I reflect, thinking of the disgusting wine and shit, then the beers, and to think I drank it all on an empty stomach...I was probably well over due a good vomit. But I lost count of how much, I couldn't give Freddy a number. 

"Enough to make me want to kiss PJ," I confess, my voice raw and flat, "Enough to make me trek half way across London to see someone who doesn't even want to know me anymore." My voice cracks and I wipe my eyes. Freddy doesn't respond straight away, obviously taking a minute to let it all sink in. He didn't have a clue about me and PJ. Nobody did, and that was definitely for the best. I've fucked that one up tonight as well, because now Freddy knows and I'm not sure how good he is with secrets.

"You kissed PJ?" He replies, ignoring my comment on Phil. I don't reply, refusing to admit to it really. I said I wanted to kiss him. I didn't tell him that I did - and very enthusiastically. "PJ?" He walks back over to me. I don't look to watch, I just hear, and then he's in front of me, crouched with his hands on my knees.

"PJ?" He repeats, "You kissed...is he...PJ?" I can't understand why he's so surprised, but I'm not sure which part is surprising him, so I'm not sure whether or not he has a right to be.

"He tasted like sick," I tell Freddy, actually managing to smirk. Freddy laughs, a proper laugh, and I can't tell which part of this bullshit situation is causing that. "I'm not sure why I did it."

"Did you enjoy-" Freddy is interrupted by a large bang, coming from what I assume is the bedroom. We both look up at it, automatically responding to the sound. I hope it's not Phil. I hope it's not bad. "What was that?"

Half of me wants to spit, 'how the fuck should I know' at him, but I'm too curious (and afraid of throwing up again). Instead, we both sit staring at the door until Quinn comes bustling back out, awkwardly shielding whatever (or you know, whoever) is behind it, and quickly slamming it tightly shut behind him. 

"Everything alright?" Quinn asks, "Do you want some more water? Have you called someone yet?" 

"No," Freddy says, "I'll go and do that now, uh, I'll just-" Freddy lets himself back out into the hallway, to his knowledge leaving me with a complete stranger in a random apartment block.

But I know better.

And so does Quinn.

He looks at me as soon as the door is shut, his face more serious now. I gulp.

"You shouldn't have come here," Quinn whispers. I nod. He knows, yet he doesn't sound mad. I always expected he would be.

"I'm sorry," I mutter, letting my head flop against the arm of the sofa. "Phil said he didn't want to see me and I-" My voice cracks.

"It's not that he..." Quinn lets his voice trail off. "Things aren't the way you remember, Dan. Phil isn't how you'll remember."

"I don't remember," I scoff, "That was the problem." He nods. I assume Phil explained the situation, but I have no idea how much Quinn was told. Judging by his reaction though, he's aware of my memory loss. I'm glad, having to explain it would be excruciating.

"Why did you come here?" He asks, "How did you even..." 

"Martyn," I reply, "I found him. He found out the building and passed on the number, as you know." 

"Right," Quinn says, "I remember. I think I was kind of a dick that night, my bad. I just...Phil was with his parents and I was worried because he hates them-"

"I know," I cut in, "I remember that." 

"They aren't happy about me," Quinn tells me, "But they don't hate me. I don't think they can." Because he's loving their son the way he deserves to be loved.

"That's good," I say.

"Don't you hate me?" He asks, "Because if you do, I think I understand, you know, but please-"

"Don't you hate me?" I sneer, raising my eyebrows. Quinn shakes his head, as if shocked by the suggestion. "I'd hate me."

"You've done nothing wrong," Quinn says, "I mean, throwing up on my door aside, I have no reason to hate you. I'm not going to dislike you just because Phil used to date you." Used to. Date me. He makes it sound as if it was nothing. Maybe that's how Phil made it sound.

But it was more than that to me. It always will be.

"Right, yeah," I mumble, "Thanks. Cool." Quinn smirks. I wish he didn't look so fucking good. It's not fair, I can't compete with him on the appearance side of things - I think most people would struggle to be fair though, he's next level, and I'm trying not to be mad about it.

"He's happy, you know," Quinn tells me, "And it isn't that he doesn't want to see you, it's just that things have changed for him now, and I don't think he wants new things in his life that are going to...I don't know, distract him-"

"Bullshit," I spit, far too over confident. Quinn raises his eyebrows. I feel my cheeks heating up, but I can't take back the words, so instead I explain them. "I know about his legs. Martyn told me. He doesn't want me to know, does he?"

"He thinks he can learn to walk again," Quinn whispers, as if he's afraid Phil will hear. He looks down at the floor, as if talking about it upsets him, though that's perfectly understandable. "He keeps trying - getting out of his chair and then falling to the floor. He's persistent, but the doctors think it's unlikely. Maybe after a few years of physio and operations, maybe. But Phil seems to think one appointment a week and a bit of hope is going to bring feeling back."

I feel like crying for him.

"That's what the bang was," Quinn continues, "He threw himself out of bed, wanting to know where I'd gone I think. He can't see you here though, Dan. He'd freak the fuck out if he saw you right now. I told him it was two drunken teenagers - not a complete lie." 

"How did you know who I was?" I ask, frowning. It can't have been the mention of my name alone, can it? There are millions of Dan's.

"Phil," He says, "When I asked about you, he told me everything, then he got some photos out. There are only about four, but I could tell it was you the minute I opened that front door." 

It warms me, just a little, to think Phil kept the photos with me.

"I knew it was you too," I admit, "Phil told me all about you. Described you, and you just fit the description too well." 

"What were you planning on doing?" He asks, "Let's say it was Phil who had opened the door - what would you have done?" 

"Still puked," I sigh. Quinn laughs.

"He probably would have too," He says. I smirk. 

"I don't know," I admit, in all honesty. "It was a horrific idea, really. I just wanted to see him. Scream at him for not wanting to see me. Cry. I do want to see him though, I don't care about the wheelchair."

"He's so self conscious about it," Quinn explains, "I mean, I could talk him into going to see you, but he's so stubborn, it would probably take a while. I have a hard time convincing him to come shopping with me, or go out for meals. We have a date night once a week, and he hates it if we go somewhere really busy because he thinks people will stare. It's so sad." I gulp.

"Maybe tell him I called you," I suggest, "Say that...that I told you I know about his legs, and that I still want to see him. Do you think he'd change his mind, if he knew that I didn't care?"

"I'm not sure," He sighs, "Phil is so difficult, he's stubborn as fuck, he'd...I don't know. We can give it a shot, if that's what you'd like."

"If it isn't obvious already, I'm willing to try anything at this point," I say. He lets out an amused huff of breath, nodding at the ground before actually looking back up at me.

"This is not how I imagined our first time meeting would go," He says. I frown.

"How did you imagine it?" I ask.

"You sober," He sneers. I force a laugh. "And me in more than my pajamas, and Phil actually with us." 

I'm about to reply, but Freddy walks back into the apartment, smiling at us both as if we haven't just massively fucked up our night and as if we're not going to get absolutely bollocked by whoever he's called. 

"Is it sorted?" Quinn asks him. He nods.

"I rang Dana and she's getting her brother to pick us up," Freddy explains. Relief washes over me. I thought he'd have to ring his parents, but if someone not much older than us is coming, we're not going to get into much trouble. Dana's brother is about four years older than us, but I can't recall his name. She doesn't talk about him much.

"Is he okay with it?" I ask. Freddy shrugs.

"He said so," Freddy shrugs, "He gives lifts all the time, doesn't care because he likes driving. He has a mint car, can't remember what though, actually..." He keeps talking about the car, Quinn cuts in a few times and they start actually discussing cars. I don't join in, mostly because I know fuck all about cars, but also because I'm kind of distracted by the fact Phil is only a room away from me.

After months of searching, I'm finally here, and I'm not sure if that has completely hit me quite yet. Not only that, but Quinn is going to help me meet him - it's almost too good to be true. Maybe I shouldn't trust Quinn, maybe he's too nice to be genuine, but I don't care enough to question him just yet; if someone says they're going to help me, I'm in no position to deny that. I'd be fucked if I refused help in this, and I certainly wouldn't be sat in Phil's living room had I not received help. I've always needed it and I still do, even if it's not from who I expected.

-

It only takes Dana's brother twenty minutes to get here. We say awkward goodbyes to Quinn and head out, pretending not to notice that my sick is still decorating the wall. 

"Are you disappointed that you didn't find Phil?" Freddy asks as we walk down the corridor. I shrug. Do I tell him? 

At this point, I doubt it would make a difference. Freddy won't care either way, no matter what I tell him.

"I did," I say, smiling to myself - because despite everything, somehow, this didn't turn out to be completely disastrous. I expected things to be so much worse, I guess I got lucky this time. "That was his apartment, Freddy. That man, it was Quinn-"

"I fucking knew it!" He gasps, clapping his hands together and laughing. "Dan! Why didn't you say anything?"

"I panicked," I shrug, "I think he knew it was me too though." I know he did, but I can't be bothered explaining it all to be honest, so I'm just cutting out the vital parts.

"I guessed when you glared at me," Freddy explains, "I knew you didn't want me to tell him who we were really looking for so I assumed that he must be it. Call me Einstein." 

"Is that Dana's brother?" I ask, pointing at the small red car parked across the lot. 

"Yeah," Freddy says, "Told you he had a mint car! I fucking love it-"

"I don't give a fuck about cars Freddy," I groan, walking over to it. He sighs and follows me.

Dana's brother looks incredibly similar to Dana, which for some reason surprises me. He's just more attractive and more masculine, with shorter hair and a nose ring. He smiles at us when we get in, and makes polite conversation the entire drive back to Nick's house, laughing at our situation and telling us stories about when he was our age. Freddy converses with him, but I sit in the back and keep quiet for the most part, unless they directly speak to me.

I don't feel sick anymore, but I don't feel okay either. I'm somewhere inbetween, and I think my body and my mind are still deciding how they feel about tonight. I've fucked up so bad, but there's nothing I can do about that now.

Maybe it was because I threw up, but I feel a lot more clear minded than I did two hours ago. I still can't think right, and I don't really feel in the mood to contemplate every horrific choice I've made, but I don't think I'll keep fucking up tonight. 

I'd like to think I'll stop fucking up all together, but this is me, and I fuck up almost every time I open my mouth, so I think that's too optimistic of me. 

Optimism never was my strong point, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! So first off, sorry this chapter took so long. Christmas etc kind of threw my writing time out the window. But onto more positive things - I was scrolling down tumblr today when I saw a post by @phanficawards (reblogged by somebody I follow). I don't usually pay attention to anything like that, and this time was no different, but as I scrolled I saw my name, shit myself, then scrolled back up.  
> So, as it turns out, one of you (or many of you?) has nominated me / this fic for the best combination (angst, fluff & smut - though there's been minimal of that last one???) award, which is pretty cool. I don't care about winning, that's not really a big deal, but I'm genuinely so amazed that people actually think about my work beyond reading it. I love this fic, and I love writing, and the fact other people like my writing enough to do that makes me beyond happy. So whether you want to vote for me or not (definitely don't deserve it) thank you so so much, to whoever it was that actually thought this was worth any of that. I still can't believe this even gets views. If you did want to vote, check that blog on tumblr for links (I am far too lazy to link it myself), that would be pretty cool.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter!!! And happy new year to all of you lovely people.


	32. Run From Your Problems

By the time we get back to Nicks, half of them are asleep. 

PJ is curled up in the bath tub, and someone was kind enough to put a blanket over him. Sammy and Tom are fast asleep upstairs. Clarky is in the conservatory, laid across the couch in a deep sleep. Hilda is still here, waiting for another taxi (Freddy and I may or may not have jumped in the one she ordered first). She's sat on the couch, awkwardly close to Nick considering the melt down she had over him earlier. Dana and Mack are in the kitchen, sat across from each other on the floor with the fancy wine. Mack looks as if she's cried, but I don't mention it. 

"Did we miss anything?" I ask them, sitting down. Freddy is in the living room, explaining where we went to Hilda and Nick, no doubt trying to figure out how pissed Hilda is about the taxi. 

"Not really," Mack says, "PJ threw up some more. Hilda and Nick snogged. She cried. Um, Sammy smashed a plate - then threw up. Other than that, nothing much."

"Did you find lover boy?" Dana asks. I shake my head, but mostly just because I don't want to go over the story again. "Gutting." 

"Show us a photo of him Dan," Mack says, "Was he fit?" 

"Yeah," I say, blushing. I can't stop myself from smirking though. I sit down with them and flick through the phone. I'd only sent myself one photo of him from my old phone, just because I didn't want, nor need, the constant reminder that I missed him so much. Photos do that to me, remind me what I'm missing. Every time I taunted myself into flicking through the old phone, I got a stab in my gut with every swipe. 

I get the photo up anyway. It's one of the few I know a lot about. It was the last one we took together, in the car only minutes before we crashed. We look so happy, so blissfully unaware of the tragedies that lied ahead. I guess that's why I liked it. We were getting away. We believed we were driving to freedom, when in reality we drove near death. Nothing goes how you expect, and that photo is pure evidence of that. 

I show it to them anyway, past caring about how red I've gone. Dana smirks at the photo, and Mack makes a sickly 'aw' sound, smiling at the phone. 

"Not my type," Dana says, "But good for you. He's not bad." I'm too tired to fight her about it. He's more than not bad. He was incredible. Still is.

"I think he looks cute," Mack counters, ever the positive one. "Emo." I laugh at that.

"See," Dana explains, "I'm more into skater boys. If I was into scene kids, sure, he's great-"

"He's not a scene kid," I protest, laughing. Mack laughs along and Dana smirks, raising her eyebrows as if she can't quite believe me. I mean, I can't argue otherwise, based on appearance alone I kind of see where she's coming from. It's funny, if anything.

"Yeah, right, and I'm not a gobshite," Dana scoffs, sarcastically. I roll my eyes at her, but I'm smiling. "Face it Dan, you're into scene kids." 

"Fuck off," I giggle, shaking my head. I don't out right deny it, which I'm probably going to live to regret - though I've done far worse things just tonight. "Did you finish the shit wine?" 

"It's not shit," Mack says, "Tastes it, no question, but I've never been this pissed in my life without vomming so I'd say it's the good stuff." I mean, I can't argue with that.

"PJ would beg to differ," Dana sneers. "I wouldn't though, once you get past the overwhelming taste of piss and fruit, it's not too bad." 

"I'd rather have beer," I tell them, as Dana holds her bottle up to me. 

"Chugged all that ages ago," She huffs, putting it back down. "Wasn't keen on that either, the one Freddy fetched was awful-" 

"Didn't stop you drinking it," Mack cuts in, chuckling. Dana grins, nodding. 

"True," Dana says, "Speaking of Freddy, where is the little fuck?" 

"Next door," I reply, "I can't believe everyone's gone to bed. Boring fucks." 

"Tom went up so Sammy wasn't on his own," Mack explains, "Probably for the best, he looked proper gone. Then Clarky went out, about an hour ago. Think PJ was the last, bless him, he's had a shit night. Kept crying about something, wouldn't tell me what. I need to check on him actually-"

"I'll check on him," I say, standing back up. Mack nods, probably glad of it. "Kind of need a piss anyway." 

"Don't do it on PJ you sick fuck," Dana snaps. I laugh at her, and she grins. Mack just sighs, but she's holding back a smirk. 

"I make no promises," I say, laughing, before disappearing into the bathroom. I turn the light on, and PJ is still fast asleep in the bath tub. He's got a blanket over him, but I can see his face and the red blotches around his eyes are evidence of what he was doing before he dropped to sleep. I can't help but feel like him crying is partly my fault, and I get a stab of guilt in my lower stomach. 

Still, there isn't much I can do about it now. 

I do actually need the toilet, but I take Dana's wonderful advice and avoid aiming for PJ. 

I'm quick about it, and I'm just zipping back up when I hear a small, groggy voice whisper, "Dan?" 

"Fuck," I gasp, spinning around as if I'm shocked to see PJ there. I don't know why the fuck it made me jump, I just thought he was in too deep of a sleep to wake up from the sound of it. He was always such a deep sleeper when we were kids - it was always me waking him up. I guess that hasn't changed all that much.

"Where did you go?" He asks me, squinting as if the light is too much for him. He sits up properly, rubbing his eyes.

"It doesn't matter," I lie. It probably matters more than anything else I've done since returning to London. I just can't be arsed explaining it all again. Maybe I'll fill PJ in when the time is right. He probably deserves to know, more so than anyone. I'd probably tell Connor too, if I had the means to. 

"I wanted to say I'm sorry," PJ whispers, barely on this side of audible. "I shouldn't have kissed you again Dan." 

"Oh." I don't have time to come up with a more elaborate response.

"But I couldn't find you," PJ continues, "They said you'd gone to find someone. Was it Connor? Did you-"

"No," I scoff, cutting in. "It was Phil. And we didn't find him." 

"Oh," PJ mumbles, "Sorry - about it all." 

"Can we just forget tonight ever happened?" I ask him, leaning back against the edge of the sink. PJ appears to shut his eyes again, silent for a few seconds. I'm almost sure he's going back to sleep, but then he speaks again.

"You can." 

"I will," I lie. PJ makes an almost strange, choked up sobbing sound. I feel a pang of guilt. I won't forget. He knows it. He's mad that I want to, and that's understandable. "PJ..." 

"I know I don't mean a lot to you," He sighs. I gulp. It's not that. It's not that at all. 

"You do," I protest, "Just not in the way that you'd like. You're a great friend." 

"Yeah, right," PJ scoffs. "Come on Dan, you don't have to lie to me."

"I don't want to fight again," I huff, standing back up straight. PJ lays back down, nodding to the ceiling once he's laid back down. 

"Me neither," He mumbles, "I hate fighting with you." 

"Then let's just not," I say, "I'll go. We'll talk about this some other time. We'll be okay. We'll figure it all out." I don't know if I'm lying again. 

"Will we?" He asks, sounding more curious than sarcastic. Once again, I just don't know.

"I guess we'll see," I reply, before walking out.

I turn off the light, then turn the one in the hallway outside the bathroom back on to see Mack stood only a centimeter away from me, her mouth hung open in shock. 

I almost scream.

Sense hits me first though, and I step back, backing against the wall as if she's some sort of intruder. Mack looks almost angry at me, her face crumpled into some sort of shocked glare. I want nothing more than to know what she's thinking. Why the fuck was she stood outside the bathroom? How much did she hear? Judging by her expression, I'm willing to bet it was a lot. Or at least just enough.

"PJ kissed you?" She asks, speaking before I get the chance to. I gulp. She heard it all. "More than once?"

"You can't tell anyone," I plead, desperate. "Please Mack, we can't let anyone find out-"

"I won't tell," She cuts in, reassuringly. "But you have to fucking explain this to me! You and PJ? Dan, you can't fuck around with his feelings like that-"

"Keep your voice down," I snap, brushing off what she was saying. I know she's right. I can't fight her on this, and I won't. "It's not going to happen again, don't worry." 

"Yeah but you must know how he feels," She says, frowning at me, then looking at the door PJ is behind sympathetically. 

"Can we talk about this later?" I ask, beginning to walk back towards the kitchen. She doesn't answer me, instead walking into the bathroom. I go into the kitchen, say goodnight to Dana and then go up to Nick's bedroom. He was getting off with Hilda when I passed through the living room, so I doubt he'll be up any time soon. 

I get in his bed, figuring it's better I go to sleep here than in the spare room with Sammy and Tom or in his parents room. I can feel myself falling asleep almost immediately, and after the day I've had, it's a fucking relief.

-  
 __

_"She's fucked, Dan," Joe snaps, "A lost cause!"_

_"Shut the fuck up," I yell back, but part of me wonders if he's right. He knows more about this than me, he's seen this before, too many times. And every single time he lets it happen again. This time, to Cat. My best friend, and I can't stand that._

_"I'm only telling you what nobody else has the guts to say," He scoffs, walking over to the door. I think for a moment he's going to lock it, holding me in his dingy apartment, but he actually opens it, as if he wants me to leave._

_I guess that is what he wants._

_But I'm not finished here yet._

_"You don't get to give up on her," I say to him, "This is your fault. You don't get to ruin her life and then walk away. That isn't fair-"_

_"She did this to herself," Joe cuts in, almost laughing. It angers me so much, the smug expression on his face, the pity in his tone. He should be scared for her, he should be so worried, so stressed. Yet he's stood, smirking, at the fact a teenage girl is passed out and absolutely fucked from God knows what drugs, in his own apartment. "Now fuck off so I can sort this. You're not supposed to be here anyway. Isn't your boyfriend coming for you?"_

_"That's not-" I begin to respond, but the sound of a bang coming from the bathroom cuts me off. I rush over, and Joe quickly follows, actually concerned for once._

_I open the door slowly, wary of the fact Cat is somewhere behind it, but I'm relieved when I see her awake this time, and still in the bath tub where Joe left her. She looks groggy, but somehow she's still smiling._

_"Dan," She squeals, far too energetic for someone who's just passed out. I can't even bring myself to smile at her. "I can't believe you came!"_

_"Are you alright?" I ask her, sitting down besides the bath. She nods, but her hand is on her forehead, rubbing it as if she's got a headache or something. I wouldn't be surprised._

_"Amazing," She replies, her voice slurring slightly._

_"Dan wants to take you home love," Joe says, stood in the doorway. I turn around and glare at him, but he isn't looking at me, he's staring directly at Cat - who's now running her hands up and down the tiled walls around her._

_"I'm staying," She shrugs, carelessly. I want to yell at her, scream that she's a fucking idiot if she stays here, and that it's unsafe and she's a mess and her mum is worried._

_I don't do that though, mostly because I know it just won't get through to her._

_"It's so pretty here," She mumbles, staring in awe at the wall. It's really not that pretty, the walls are decorated with cracked, discoloured tiles and the bath itself looks kind of grimey, still damp from a previous shower with hairs scarcely laid inside of it. There's a smell too, of old sweat and something in between weed and sex. It's the kind of bathroom you'd expect a dirty, sex crazed, young drug dealer to have. Pretty is the last word you'd use to describe it, and that's how I know Cat isn't on her usual highs. She doesn't usually hallucinate._

_This is new._

_"It's prettier outside," I tell her, and I'm not even lying. "You should come with me."_

_"I don't want to," Cat says, bluntly. I gulp._

_"You have to," I insist, reaching over to grab her arm. She pulls out of my grasp almost immediately, and I hear Joe let out a low chuckle from behind me. "Cat, come on-"_

_"I'm safe here, Dan," She counters, pulling her legs into her chest in the corner of the tub. "I can't go with you. I won't go with you. I don't want to go with you."_

_"What did you take?" I ask her, trying to shield the worry in my tone._

_"Um," She hums for a little, thinking about it. "I don't know. It's nice though, really nice-"_

_"It knocked you out," I cut in, shaking my head at her._

_"In a good way!" She protests, smiling. "You don't get it Dan. You can't, you haven't even tried it."_

_"Forgive me for not wanting to fuck myself up," I sneer, regretting it as soon as the words leave my mouth._

_"You don't need drugs to fuck yourself up," Cat retorts, glaring at me. I look at her, eyes suddenly furious and mouth turned upside down in a vicious frown. "You did that all on your own, didn't you? You think you're fucking better than me? Ha, you're fucking not. You're a mess. You're a fucking joke - so don't act like I'm the only one here with a history of bad decisions."_

_It's not until that moment when I realize that this isn't Cat. This isn't my friend._

_And I don't have time for people who aren't my friends. I don't want to deal with her bullshit. I don't want to keep trying to get through to her. I don't care if she gets better._

_Because this girl isn't my friend._

_"I think you should go," Joe says to me. I stand up and Cat begins to laugh. I don't turn back around. I don't say goodbye to her. I just walk straight out of the apartment, my head hanging and my feet dragging across the floor. It's not a shameless walk._

_"I hate to be the prick that says it," Joe calls, "But I fucking told you so, Dan. A lost cause!"_

_I don't turn around. I don't give him a sign that I even heard the comment, but I can't help but think about it._

_Because maybe he is right. Maybe Cat is a lost cause._

_The thought brings me to tears, and by the time I've reached Phil's house, I'm full on sobbing._

_Fuck Cat._

_Fuck them all._

_I walk straight up into his bedroom, and he's sat on his bed, his Ipod blasting. He puts it down when he sees me crying, and I walk into his open arms, appreciating the contact more than anything. It was all I needed, to be held by him. I feel safe and loved._

_He is all I need._

_"I think we should do it," I sob into his shoulder. He pulls away, looking at me with his hands cupping my face. "I think we should run."_

_"Cat?" He asks, frowning, "Chris?"_

_"Dead to me," I sneer, though it's a lie. They could never be. I'll always care. I just don't want to. "Let's fucking forget them, Phil. Let's go to Europe."_

_"Are you sure?" He asks me, completely serious. I nod._

_"I've never been more sure of anything in my life," I say to him, and he nods, as if he believes me._

_"Then let's go, Dan," He responds, smiling softly, "Let's run."_


	33. Realism For The Win

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that it's been almost a month since I updated. Life gets in the way, you know.

I wake up in Nicks bed, a duvet around me and a warm body beside me. 

My head is aching and there's a familiar feeling of sickness in my stomach. I sigh into the pillow, but I feel more like crying to be honest. Especially when the events of last night come back to me.

I don't think there are words in the English language quite strong enough to explain the hate I have for myself at this moment. I wish I could take it all back, everything I said and did last night. I wish I didn't remember. I wish I didn't get so much pleasure from the risk of recklessness.

But I can't change any of those things. And here I am, in another self formulated mess, feeling fucking sorry for myself.

I sigh into the pillow again, before rolling over to face whoever decided to sleep next to me last night. It's almost a relief to see Dana laid there, her face half buried in the pillow and half shielded by her hair. She's curled up in a ball, the duvet tucked around her neatly. She must have taken it from another bedroom, God knows there are enough in this house.

I wait a few minutes before getting up, taking some time to think about how I'm going to approach PJ and Mackenzie today. I don't think there's any avoiding the conversations they'll want to have. I don't think it would be fair of me to do that to them. All I can do is explain and apologize, and hope that's enough for PJ. Mack should be understanding enough - she's lied for Freddy and Connor, I can only hope she'd be willing to do the same for me. Not that she needs to lie this time, nothing needs covering up, just kept down low.

As for Quinn and Phil, I can't exactly get around that as easily. Quinn will be understanding and all, he's even going to convince Phil to somehow meet with me, which is amazing of him, but I still feel guilty for what I did last night. It was so rude and so fucking destructive - for all parties involved. I'm grateful Phil didn't see me there though, I don't think I was in the right state to handle that. Obviously, I'll have to see him eventually, and when I do, I need to figure out what to do and say. 

And ask about last nights flashback.

That was possibly one of the more enlightening memories I've regained. We were definitely running, and it seemed as if it was from Cat. That hurts me a little, to think it got to that point. I never believed I'd give up on my friends but I guess things were different back then. I hadn't seen her like that before, and maybe that changes things a little. Maybe I was just in a panicked shock. 

But I don't remember it that way. 

Now that I think about it, when I told Phil I wanted to go, it seemed so certain, so confident. It wasn't a snap decision like that, I'd been thinking of it for a while. It was familiar. 

Cat was just the thing that pushed me over the edge. 

And then it all went to shit. 

I could spend another hour dwelling on that, laid feeling sorry for myself. I don't though, instead I sit up and get ready to face the world, styling my hair with my fingers and straightening out my outfit a little bit. 

I'm about to leave the room, my hand on the door knob, when Dana wakes up. I see her sit, from the corner of my eye, and turn back around to see her sat upright, staring at me with almost blank eyes.

"How did I get in here?" She asks me, her voice rough. 

"I wish I could tell you," I scoff, shrugging. She rolls her eyes at my response. I'd help her if I knew, but I was long gone before she joined me - at least the way I remember it.

"Not helpful," Dana mumbles, "Wait, did we have se-"

"Fuck no," I cut in, before she can even finish the question. She let's out a sigh of relief. "I'd remember that." 

"Are you sure?" She asks, smirking, "Remembering isn't your strong point Danny." Had the comment come from anyone but Dana, it would have angered me, but this is just a joke to her. She doesn't mean anything by it, I know that, so instead I simply laugh it off. I guess it is kind of funny, really.

"Fuck off," I say, giggling, "You wish there was something to remember." She laughs at that. I continue. "No, we definitely did not do anything sexual last night, Dana, as much as it might pain you to hear." 

"Nobody is more relieved to hear that than I am," She replies, smirking at me. I smile back. "Are you going to get some food?" 

"Yeah," I say, though that wasn't my primary intention. 

"Fetch me some toast," She demands, rather than asking, before flopping back down onto her back. 

"Will do," I huff, walking out of the room. It's eerily quiet, but I guess that's just because everyone will still be asleep, and this house is too big for me to be able to hear if that isn't the case. I walk down the stairs and through the long hallway, into the kitchen.

It looks exactly as it did last night, the counters lined with empty cans and bottles and half eaten food and the discarded pizza boxes. It looks messier in the day light though, the morning glow giving it a more depressing feel. The clock on the wall reads nine am, which feels far too early yet far too late.

I sigh and go over to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water. I rummage around the cupboards, only feeling a little bit rude as I grab a three slices of bread and some paracetamol from them. I put the bread in the toaster and take two of the tablets whilst I'm waiting for it to pop up again. 

I've been waiting what feels like ten minutes when I hear someone padding around in the hallway. The toast pops. I jump, then grab a plate and pile it on. 

"What are you doing?" It's Mack. She pokes her head through the door. "Oh. I thought you were Freddy."

"Sorry to disappoint," I mumble. I go back over to the fridge and grab the butter, trying to focus on breakfast rather than the fact Mack is stood, no doubt waiting to have a conversation with me.

"Dan..." She lets her voice trail off. I gulp, waiting for her to continue. I won't be one to initiate that conversation, I can promise that.

"Do you want a slice?" I ask her, intentionally trying to divert the topic. I know it's a weak effort. I know weak is an understatement.

"Don't try to avoid it," She sighs. I'm not looking at her, but I can tell she'll be shaking her head at me, leaning against the cabinet with eyes full of pity. I turn for a second to see that I'm right.

"I'm not," I lie, "I just thought you might want some toast." 

"I do," Mack says, "But I think PJ matters more right now."

"Right," I mumble, unable to dispute her there. He is more important than toast, I guess that's a fact. "I don't know what you want me to say though, Mack." 

"Tell me what happened," She replies, standing back up straight. I sigh, not really fond of the idea. I don't like to think about what happened, and I especially don't want to talk about it. 

"We kissed and he told me that he liked me," I explain it, in it's most basic form, "I told him no, but then we kissed again last night. It was a drunken mistake and I don't know why I did it. That's all there is to know, okay?" 

Mack is silent for a few seconds after that, staring at me with an ambiguous expression before finally saying, "I don't know what they all see in you." 

It takes me a second to register what she's said, let alone what she means by it. I'm struck with complete confusion, and then denial. She doesn't mean what I think she does - that can't be right.

I ask anyway. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

I think it's the response she wanted.

Mack tilts her head to one said, looking at me with an unreadable expression. I can't tell if she's being cold on purpose, or if I'm just reading too far into everything. I glare back at her, not even attempting to mask my frustration. 

"They all seem to think you're some sort of supreme being," She explains, her voice devoid of emotion, "Maybe it's because you're older. I don't know. I just don't see the fuss. You're not that great." 

I don't think she means it to be malicious, that's not really Mackenzie's style, but it still feels like an attack, and I can't understand where all of this is coming from, or what she even means by it all. I don't see whatever it is that she is seeing. 

"I don't see the fuss either, ever," I say, trying to keep my voice level. "Who the fuck thinks that? Because I don't notice." 

"PJ, Connor, Freddy, Dana," She lists, "Even Clarky. But it doesn't take much to impress him." 

"They don't think that highly of me," I protest, "And if they do, it's not my fault."

"I never said it was," She shrugs, "And I never said it was a bad thing. I just don't understand it, is all." 

"I don't either," I mumble, letting my gaze drift back to the floor. I think about it for a minute. I never really thought about it much, but the more I do, the more I can maybe see where Mack is coming from. I've come back here out of nowhere, and suddenly everything has changed. Everyone took to me so quickly, I did notice that, but I never really thought about it enough to draw a conclusion like Mack did. They think highly of me? It seems...stupid.

Why would anyone think highly of me? I've fucked up almost every aspect of my life. 

I'm not really someone to idolize like that. Maybe Mack is right, maybe it is just because I'm older - not that it really makes me any cooler, or at all wiser. I'm neither of those things.

"Just try not to fuck PJ up," She requests, as casually as if she'd just said 'pass the ketchup'. 

"It might be a bit late," I sigh, looking back up at her. Mack's face is still blank, but she's staring dead at me, leaning against the counter top.

"I feel like there's something I don't know about you," She says. 

"There's a lot," I reply, which still feels like an understatement. She nods at me, knowing I'm completely right. There's a lot she'll never know. It's for the best. "I had an entire life before any of you." 

"Do I need to know about any of it?" She asks. I shrug.

"I don't think it would change anything," I say. Mack will see me however she wishes, no matter what I tell her.

"Right," She mumbles. I don't bother replying to her. I don't want to continue this conversation at all. Instead, I mutter an awkward goodbye and head back to Nicks room.

Dana is still sat up in the bed, but this time Nick is there with her, sat on the end of his bed pulling on some socks. He grins when he sees me. I force an awkward smile, even though smiling is the last thing I feel like doing. 

The rest of the morning seems to flow like that, me forcing myself to act merry and make conversation whilst wanting to curl up in ball and cry. I don't get a chance to talk to PJ, not even when I thought it would be inevitable on the walk home, because I invite Freddy along, of course completely forgetting that it would mean post-poning my discussion with Peej. 

Even letting Freddy come home with me has its down sides though, because it means I can't just go home, get in my own bed and wallow in self pity. I can't get home and call Cat or Chris or sit and watch shitty videos on the internet. I have to make even more conversation, and that's the last thing I wanted to do. 

"Don't you think Nick and Dana make a good couple though?" He asks me. I shrug. I can't say that's a burning question in my mind, and I don't care enough to put much thought into it.

"Yeah," I mumble, "Shame for Hilda though." 

"They would never get together anyway," Freddy says, "Even if she liked him like that, Dana is far too independent to get a boyfriend. She's all like girl power and shit, says she doesn't need a man, just a dick." I laugh at that.

"And where does Nick stand?" I ask, for the sake of making conversation. 

"I don't know," He says, "Nick is kind of hard to read sometimes. I mean, he got with Hilda last night, but tomorrow he might be after Riley Smith or Tanya De-"

"Who?" I cut in. 

"Doesn't matter," Nick shrugs, "Point is, he can't commit, so even if he did like Dana, it would never last. That's probably why he won't go for Hilda, too clingy." 

"It's a shame," I mutter, unable to think of much else to say.

"Why?" Freddy asks, frowning at me, "I mean, it's hardly the romance of the century. It's not even a romance at all, they got off on his sofa for fucks sake." 

"Yeah," I explain, "But I just think it's a shame. When two people like each other and they can't be together because of bad timing or one of their own bullshit personality flaws, it's fucking sad. Let's say Nick likes Hilda too, don't you think it's fucking disappointing for them both if they never bother trying to make it work?" 

"I don't think it's that deep," He replies, "Sure, it's sad for Hilda. She'll get over it." 

"Would you say the same if I used you and Connor in that context?" I know I've struck a chord with him. Hit deep. His face says it all - suddenly much sadder. 

"I don't understand," He says, "What do you mean?" He sounds very confused, although I think he already knows exactly what I mean. 

"I'm just saying that it's fucking sad," I continue, "If two people care about each other then they should make every fucking minute count. You and Connor didn't, and why the fuck not? Because you were scared? Bullshit, Freddy. Aren't you more of afraid of regretting letting him go in five years? Won't that be worse-"

"Shut the fuck up," He cuts in, suddenly sounding angry. I want to shut up. I know I should shut up, but following my pattern of stupid behavior, I don't. 

"You know you fucked up big time with him," I say, "You both ruined something that could have been amazing. And for what? Nothing. Don't you think you're going to regret not making it work? You didn't even try. Isn't that worse than trying and failing? You ran away." 

I think I'm finished ranting at him. I'm done, and I instantly regret starting. He looks fairly shocked, but mostly just upset. I guess I hit the nail on the head, and now he's realized everything he's avoided thinking about for the past year.

"Did you have to be so harsh?" He asks, quiet as if he's afraid his voice will crack. I'm riddled with guilt already. 

"Sorry," I sigh, "I'm sorry. That was out of line, it's not my business, you had your reasons-"

"No," He interrupts, "I mean, I did, but they were bullshit. You're right, you know, about me regretting it. I just...I don't know. Fear is a powerful thing." 

"And there's a lot to be afraid of," I agree, relieved he isn't angry. He has a right to be though, I would have been if someone had said those things to me, mostly because the truth fucking hurts, and sometimes you just don't want to hear it. 

Other times, you need to.

"Fucking true," Freddy huffs, wiping at his eyes. I pretend not to notice. "I don't know. I think if me and Connor were supposed to have worked out, we just would have. But we didn't. There's probably a reason for that." 

"You are the reason," I counter, refusing to accept the 'fate' bullshit. I mean, sometimes, I get that. We tell ourselves that everything happens for a reason so that we don't have to waste time wondering 'what if', but in reality, the only reason things didn't work out is because Connor and Freddy let things fall apart. 

It's not romantic, it's realistic. It's raw. It fucking hurts, but it's what happens. It's what happened to me and Connor too, I guess. Me and Phil were different though, things were beyond our control, and I don't know if that makes it hurt more or less. 

"Don't give me-" Freddy tries to respond, but the ringing of my phone cuts him off. It's Mack, and I immediately go to answer it. 

"You okay?" I ask her, trying to keep my tone neutral. 

"I'm fine," She says, though she doesn't sound it. "How quickly can you get round to my house?"

I think about it. She lives about twenty minutes away from me, walking. "Twenty minutes." I pause before asking, "Why?" 

"Don't tell anyone, Dan," Mack says, I look to Freddy, fully aware that he can hear every word she's saying. He gives me a nod, swearing his silence. 

"I won't," I lie. 

"Connor is here," She tells me, "He wants to see you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter was worth the wait, doesn't feel it to me, it's more of a filler, but I'm hoping to get back on track soon! As always, votes and comments are loved and appreciated, so let me know what you think!!!  
> (hopefully you won't be waiting another month for a half assed update, but until then, you know)


	34. Wants and Regrets

Freddy looks like a deer caught in headlights, staring at me with an almost fearful expression. I'm returning the gaze, my own expression matching the shock on his. 

It wasn't the answer I expected, and I can't say that it was the one I wanted either. And it certainly isn't the one I needed. Maybe Freddy needs it though, to look at this from an optimistic view.

Maybe it will be good for me too, only I don't know what I'm going to say to him. I hadn't exactly planned for this today, and there's a hell of a lot that needs to be said.

"He sneaked out," Mack continues talking, "But his parents will be back in like, maybe an hour or two, so the sooner you get here, the better. He's gonna be killed if they realize he came here." 

It makes sense for Connor to go to Mack, her house is closest to his, and his parents might be glad of the fact he went to see a girl over me or another boy. 

"So are you gonna come?" She asks. "Dan?" 

"I'm with Freddy," I tell her, curious to know how she'll react to that. She knew that I left Nick's with him, but she didn't really say anything about it. I doubt she remembered that fact when she called. 

"Right," Mack sounds dumb struck, "Shit." 

"Can he..." I don't need to finish the question.

"I don't think it's a good idea," Mack sighs. I look up at him, he's biting his lip, staring at the phone with an empty look in his eyes. "Sorry. I just...I mean, I'll ask Connor. I don't think he'll want that either though."

"You might be surprised," I say, forcing a smile in Freddys direction. He doesn't bother returning it, but I can't say I care. I kind of get it. 

"Two seconds then," Mack says. It takes her more than two seconds, during which Freddy and I sit in complete silence, still taking it in. I hear her return to the phone before she even speaks, a loud sigh coming down the line. "He says that's fine, just hurry." 

"We'll be twenty minutes," I say, jumping off my bed. Mack hangs up on me and I slip the phone back in my pocket. We waste no time leaving the house and beginning a fast paced walk to Mackenzie's house. I've never been inside it before, but I know where it is. It's actually next door to the house of someone I was kind of friends with before I moved up to Manchester - but he probably won't give a shit about me now. 

"What are you going to say?" Freddy asks me when we're only five minutes away. I've been contemplating that the entire walk, but I'm still not entirely sure. I feel like I need to apologize, like this is somehow my fault. I know it isn't, not entirely, but it's still kind of bad. 

"I don't know," I reply, as honestly as possible, "I guess I'll just wait and see what he has to say." 

"Should be interesting," Freddy says, "You know, with us both there." 

"I don't mind," I tell him, "If he wants to see you or whatever, that's okay. I can live with that. I think I'm too much of a mess for him anyway." 

"I thought the same," Freddy sighs, "But then I realized that wasn't my choice to make. You know, he probably would've dealt with me. Somehow. I guess I'll never know now and at the time I didn't want to." 

"No point regretting it then," I say, trying to offer some sort of comfort. "If you did what you really believed was for the best, then you did the right thing. You could never have known any of this was going to happen. It might have ended up the same anyway." 

"I detest wondering what if," He mumbles, shaking his head at the ground. We're almost there now, but we seem to have slowed down since striking up conversation. 

"So stop dwelling on it," I respond, as if it's so simple. You can't stop dwelling on the questions that plague your mind, I know that full well. In fact, I probably understand it more than most, but it seems like the right thing to say, and sometimes you need to keep hearing the obvious before you really believe it. "You're never going to know. Doesn't matter how long you spend thinking about it." 

"Easier said than done," Freddy huffs, taking the words out of my mouth. I chuckle, nodding in agreement. 

"If I had better advice I'd give it," I mutter. 

"I appreciate that," He says, "But anyway, I was thinking about Connor, do you think I should apologize or something? I mean, I said sorry to him on the phone the other night, and we talked a little about it, but maybe I should just say it again, you know? Make a point of it." 

"I was thinking the same," I tell him, "About apologizing. I think I kind of maybe owe him one-"

"What did you ever do wrong?" Freddy cuts in. I hold my tongue. A fucking lot. But that isn't the only thing that I think of after he speaks - Mackenzie's words flash back to me, what she said in the kitchen earlier: "They all seem to think you're some kind of supreme being".

I brush it off.

"I feel kind of responsible," I admit, "If me and him had never been together, we'd never have gotten caught and his parents would never have freaked out and he'd never have been moved schools and-"

"That was not your fault," Freddy scoffs, "If his parents are fucking idiots, that's on them. You're not to blame for their over reaction. Or their homophobia. Con chose to be with you too, he knew the risks." It makes sense, what he's saying, but it does nothing to lift the weight off of my shoulders. The guilt still looms.

"It's so weird," I say, diverting topic slightly, "Every boy I catch feelings for gets moved away from me. Literally. Phil got sent to fucking Uni, one where I wasn't supposed to find him, and Con got moved schools and-"

"Neither of those things are on you," Freddy protests, frowning at me. "It's just dumb coincidences."

"Or I'm cursed," I suggest, taking more of an interest in that idea.

"Quite possibly," Freddy agrees, giggling.

We get to Mackenzie's a little bit quicker than expected, but she seems relieved when she opens the front door, practically dragging the two of us inside.

"Where's Connor?" Freddy asks, kicking his shoes off. "Con-" Almost on queue, Connor walks through from the kitchen. I feel my heart drop at the sight of him. He's smiling, but his eyes are sad and there are red blotches around his eyes as if he's just finished crying. That would hardly be surprising.

"Are you alright?" I ask him, trying to act normal. He's not been gone for long, but it feels like it's been a while. This has been a fucking tough week for us all, there's no wonder why really. 

"I'm managing," Connor responds, his voice monotone, "Somehow." 

"How's the new school?" Freddy asks, as if that's a priority. 

"Worse," Connor says, "Probably because I have no friends. They're all posh twats and they act twelve and they're all so fucking smart-"

"You missing us then?" I cut in, forcing a smile. He nods, then steps forward, awkwardly opening his arms as if to go in for a hug. I follow his lead, more than happy to hold him again, but we're wrapped up in each other for only a second before Con steps back away and does the same with Freddy.

"Stupid question," Connor sighs, "I've been thinking of ways to see you all. I need to get a phone or something, I can't have my old one back for a while. I don't know how long I'm going to be punished for, but I'm willing to guess it's until they think I'm...I don't know, normal or something."

"I can dig out my old phone," Mack suggests, "But I have no idea if it still works. I think I lost the charger too, but they're only like a quid on the internet if you need one."

"I can't order offline," Connor tells her, "They won't give me any money besides what I need for school dinners, but even if I did I couldn't get online anyway." 

"Is this not child abuse?" Freddy questions. It fucking should be, but I highly doubt it. Homophobia isn't illegal, and even if it were who's to say it would make a difference.

"I'll find you the shit phone then," Mack says, "I could always post it through your letter box or something. Or hide it in your garden." It's a good idea really, but there are risks.

"I need to talk to Clarky," Connor mumbles, "I just...I know he'll be so angry-"

"Oh, he is," I cut in. Connor doesn't exactly looked shocked by this statement.

"I don't know what to do," He mutters, looking down at the floor with mild shame. I don't know what to suggest, and judging by the silence nor does anyone else. "Coming here wasn't my brightest idea." 

"You say it like you ever have bright ideas," Freddy says, trying to keep the mood light. It doesn't really work, but I force a laugh anyway and so Connor and Mack join in for the sake of ease. I knew it would be awkward, but I never thought it would be because we lacked things to say. Two hours ago there were a million and one things I wanted to say to Connor, but now I can't think up more than a couple of sentences.

"Coming here definitely wasn't one of them," Mack sighs, before quickly adding, "I'm glad you did though." Connor smiles at that, then looks back to me and Freddy.

"What about you two?" He asks, "You missing me?" He's smiling, but it's clearly forced. 

"Not at all," I lie, smirking. Connor rolls his eyes, still grinning. 

"Bullshit," He sneers, and I nod - wordlessly confirming. Connor turns to Freddy then, who's awkwardly stood in the corner, arms folded across his chest and head hung to glare at the floor. "Bet you're not." 

"Bad bet," Freddy says, "You're definitely wrong there." Mack sighs, extra loud as if to make her presence known, but then walks through the door at the end of the hallway. Something tells me I should follow her lead, so I give a nod to Freddy and Connor then rush down the hallway. 

Mack is stood in her kitchen, staring out of the window above the sink. I walk up behind her, unsure if she's aware I'm here. If she knows, she hasn't voiced it. I look out. Behind her house, there's a huge field. I know it well. 

It used to have a park with a swing set and a slide, the climbing frame and the benches. There were basketball hoops and a couple of football goals. I remember going there when I was really young, but then my Mum stopped taking me - claiming that it was full of 'rough ones'. What she meant by that was teenagers smoking weed and drawing dicks on the play areas. 

Before I moved back to Manchester, I became one of those teens (minus the weed). I remember, vaguely, calling on the boy who lives next door to Mackenzie (his name was George, but everyone called him Giddy) with a couple of other friends of mine. We'd jump over Giddys fence and then run to the park. It wasn't far, but the field was huge. We'd always sit on the climbing frame and talk shit. Sometimes we'd play football or try to climb in and out of the baby swing. I remember that, pretty clearly actually. We weren't rough though. We didn't vandalize or terrorize, we just sat. There wasn't much else to do around here. 

"Giddy still goes to the park," Mackenzie says it as if she read my mind. I gulp. It's beyond me that she even knows we were friends, it's beyond me how she knows that we used to hang out at the park together. I had no idea who Mackenzie was before I came back here, but I was never very observant when it came to strangers, and after the crash I didn't really think to try and remember the irrelevant people who I once attended school with. Still, it's nice she knew of me - or at least Giddy.

"You know Giddy?" I ask.

"He lives next door," She scoffs. I feel stupid for a second, but then I just laugh it off. Of course she knows Giddy. Why wouldn't she? "Good old Giddy. He has a girlfriend now. And he's learning to drive. I think he's got an apprenticeship - can't remember what doing though." 

"Oh," I say, "That's good for him." It sounds sarcastic, but it is good for him. I guess I never really thought about him after I left. We weren't all that close, but he was a friend and I hung out with him because I had nobody else. But it's nice that he's okay. Great that he's got a girlfriend too, he was never the most charming boy about, but he had a good heart. It's nice for him. 

"Do you give a shit?" She asks. "I remember seeing you, before you moved. I saw you around. I knew of you, but only because of Giddy. Giddy and Simon. I could tell you about Simon too, if you like. But do you give a shit, Dan?" Simon was another friend, but I was even less close to him. He was quiet and awkward. I remember that much at least. 

"I don't know," I reply, as honest as possible. "I have a lot on my mind Mack, Simon and Giddy don't cross it very much." If at all.

"Giddy asked me about you," Mack says, "He heard you were back in London. Simon told him. Simon found out because Grace-"

"Why are you telling me all of this?" I cut in, mostly just to shut her up. I don't really want to think about my old friends. It's not like I need anything else to dwell on. 

"I'm just curious," Mack explains, her voice suddenly more firm, "You've never asked about them. You've never even mentioned them. That's weird, to me." 

"Can we talk about this another time?" I ask, rolling my eyes. She still has her back to me, staring out of the window just as she was when I first walked in. My eyes are fixed on her though, not the field out back. "You know, there are kind of more important things right now." 

"I know," She huffs, "I know." 

"So why bring it up?" I quiz, although I don't know why I'm asking. All I really want is to move on from this conversation. In all honesty, I couldn't give less fucks about Simon and Giddy now. I'm glad they're both doing okay, but they're from my past - two lifetimes ago. I've changed a lot since then, and I have much bigger concerns than catching up with two old friends of convenience. 

"I don't know," Mack mumbles, "Sorry." 

"Why are you being so weird with me?" It's another question leading to another conversation that I just don't want to have, yet here I am, asking away as if I really don't give a fuck about the answer.

"I'm not," She protests. I frown. She turns around, hesitantly looking me up and down before turning back to face the window. "Things are just messy, Dan."

"It's not all my fault," I say, though I feel crippling guilt anyway. 

"I know," Mack says, "It's partly mine. I've fucked a lot of things up, recently. And not so recently. Yeah, I've fucked a lot up. I don't know why I was thinking of Giddy. He just, I wondered why you went to PJ instead of him. You could have just-"

"I didn't exactly choose," I correct her, "And I had no idea how to get back in contact with Giddy, not that I really cared to. Making friends wasn't my priority, Mack. I just happened to do so along the way." 

"What was your priority?" She asks me. I shrug because I honestly don't know. I think I just wanted to remember, and now I really do and I'm not sure how to handle it. 

"Finding Phil," I say. "And now I've done that. But I don't feel so great about it. I don't know Mack, I'm not really sure what I want right now." 

"Well it's not PJ," Mack points out. I nod. "And it's not Connor, is it?" I shrug - my genuine response. I don't know if I want Connor. Part of me hopes Connor wants Freddy. Part of me hopes Connor wants me, and a smaller part of me hopes Connor kind of fades out so that I don't have to think about him anymore. Is that cruel? I don't know anymore. I just want everything to stop being so complicated.

"Maybe," I mutter, uncertain.

"I hope it isn't," Mack sighs, turning back around. She's biting her lip this time, clearly anxious. 

"Because you want him?" I ask, frowning at her. She knows she can't have him. She knows she never can. 

"Yeah," She replies, her voice cracking. She can never have him. She knows. And that must destroy her inside. "And I don't think he wants you either." 

"Why not?" Do I want to know? 

"I told him about you and PJ," She confesses. I feel my heart plummet. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. 

I want to be angry. I want to scream at her. I want to scream at him. I want to scream at PJ. I feel like I should scream at something, yet I can't bring myself to. I can't even bring myself to look up at Mack, cast her a glare or a call her a backstabbing prick. I should want to do all of those things. Yet I don't. 

"He knows, Dan. He knows everything." But for some strange reason, I feel fucking relieved.

"Why?" I whisper, "Why did you tell him?" But I know why. Mackenzie knows that I know why. I'm just curious to see if she's going to admit it. 

"He deserved to know," She argues, but her voice is flat as if she barely believes her own words. "But there were a lot of reasons. I just...I think I wanted him to hate you. He doesn't. He isn't capable. I did it out of spite. Bitterness. I fucked up. I really fucked up." 

"Would you still think it was fucked up if he was furious with me?" I ask her, "If you got what you wanted, would you still think of that as a mistake?" 

"I don't know," She says, her voice still lacking emotion. Mack is unreadable. "I just know I didn't get what I wanted. I'll never get what I want Dan, and it's fucking bullshit. You, Dan, you can have exactly what you want. You just need to figure out what that is. But if it's Connor, he's yours. If it's PJ, he's yours-"

"If it's Phil?" I sneer, shaking my head. She's all wrong. It isn't that simple. "I'm fucked. I'm fucked, Mack." 

"Then you'll know how it fucking feels," Mack says, then quickly changes her tone. "I'm sorry. I fucked up. I'm sorry. I...I don't know. I'm a fucking mess Dan. I know I shouldn't mess things up for you too, but here we fucking are. I'm a dick. Please try not to hate me for it." Oddly enough, I don't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a month. My bad.  
> I just want to reassure you all no matter how long it is, I'm not going to leave this fic unfinished. I don't do that. So I hope you're still enjoying this because there's a lot more to come (probably, maybe?) and I still love writing it. Feedback is always appreciated. Much love to you allllllll


	35. Crashing and Burning

I leave the kitchen, my automatic response. I'm not sure what I expected to find, my head is too fucking full to think about it, but what I did find, was certainly not what I expected.

My stomach drops when I walk back in, twisting in ways that it really fucking shouldn't, and if I wasn't angry before, I certainly am now. 

Freddy. And Connor. Up against the wall, Connor holding Freddy there with an obvious gentle hold, his hands resting lightly on his waist whilst Freddy cups his face. Kissing him. 

I half hoped this would happen ten minutes ago, but now I'm retracting every supportive thought I've ever had concerning their relationship. I know it's just the anger getting the better of me, I know I should be happy for them. They cared about each other long before I entered their lives.

I just really wish they didn't still care. Clearly, they do. That was always obvious, and its unchanging. Was I just a distraction for Connor? 

"Shall I just go?" I ask, far louder than necessary. Connor breaks away, turning to look at me with an expression that lacked guilt. I think I wanted him to look shocked, or at least afraid, as if he was horrified I'd walked in. I don't know what they expected though, Mack and I were only next door.

"Not yet," Connor says casually, as if I haven't just walked in on him with his tongue down his ex's throat. "We need to talk, remember?" 

"You've just said enough," I spit at him, "We haven't seen each other for a week and you're already back to Freddy? How the fuck does that work? I thought we were-" 

"Don't give me that," Connor cuts in, anger suddenly present in his tone, "You can kiss PJ but I can't kiss someone I actually care about? Get a grip-"

"Fuck off," I yell, just as Mack walks back in. I hear her say something, but I'm not listening - instead heading for the door and walking straight back out. I don't close the door behind me, I don't look back for even a second. They don't come running after me, so how much can they care?

How much do any of them care at all? Connor and Freddy obviously fucking don't, and with the way Mack has talked to me today she clearly doesn't either. I don't know what the fuck I ever did wrong to her, or any of them. Maybe Connor has a right to be pissed off about PJ, but that was different - I was drunk and emotional - he's just sober and spiteful.

I keep walking, unusually fast due to my anger, but I have no idea where I'm going to go. I don't really want to see any of my friends, and I can't go home in this state. For fucks sake, I'm almost crying. Mum will throw a fit. I can't see anyone like this, but I can't just roam around either. 

Unfortunately, I have no other option. I keep walking, and I do until my feet hurt and my heads a mess. It's supposed to be therapeutic to walk, but I'm just finding it fucking dreadful, like most aspects of my life. 

I can feel my phone ringing in my pocket, but I don't go to answer it. I'm not giving them the satisfaction, plus I have no idea what I would say.

The walking gets more tiresome, but I keep going. I kind of know where I am, but not exactly. I've definitely been here before at some point and I'm not really worried about getting lost around here, I remember the way I came. It wasn't too far, can't have been. I've only been roaming for maybe an hour or so. 

I think I can do longer. I think I should do longer. I still need to calm down, but that doesn't seem to be happening. I have a right to be angry and emotional, I wish I wasn't but I can't help it. It's rational, at least.

There's a bench at the end of the road. It's one of those wooden ones, built in memory of someone. I walk up to it, the closer I get, the more light headed I seem to be getting. I gulp, praying to God that's going to pass. I can't pass out right now. I can't pull that shit, not here. I look around, but the streets are pretty much empty. There are a couple of people dotted around, doing their own thing. An old man stood outside one of the apartment blocks with a cigarette in his mouth. A young girl and her even younger friend riding rusted scooters up and down at the other side of the road.

I turn back to the bench, it's close, but I'm seeing double. Panic makes it worse, my breath hitching as I near it. 

I grab the arm of the bench as soon as it's in reaching distance and sit down, hoping it does something to steady my head. I'm trying not to panic, I know that won't help, but everything is spinning and a sickness is growing in my chest and my eyelids are quickly growing heavy. It's very difficult not to panic.

I'm going to pass out. In public. When nobody is around. Where nobody will care. For God knows how long. 

I take deep breaths, try to focus on something else, but I can't. I just can't, and the next thing I know my eyelids are shut tight and I'm laid out across the memorial bench, drifting into a familiar state of unconsciousness. 

_  
"Are we really doing this?" I ask, watching Phil draw the money from the bank. I know it's real. I know it's happening. The wad of cash in his hand is proof enough. This is beyond a joke, beyond turning back. We're really doing this._

_But something feels off._

_I shouldn't have a bad feeling about this. I should be fucking excited about this. Yet for some reason, something tells me that this isn't going to happen. I could never picture it - me and Phil going off on our own adventure, starting again. It was always something I daydreamed about, but it never felt possible. It never felt real. Why doesn't it now? It's happening. It has to._

_What can stop us?_

_"Do you not want to?" Phil asks me, shoving the money into his wallet. "We can turn back. I can take you home and we can try-"_

_"No," I cut in, "I want this! I want this more than anything!" It just doesn't feel right..._

_"Good," Phil says, his smile as sweet as ever. "Because I want this more than anything Danny."_

_"Yeah," I say, "Me too." It isn't a lie. I do. I really fucking do. What I don't want is the harrowing gut feeling that something bad is going to happen. Nothing bad will happen. Nothing bad can happen now. It's already begun. We're leaving. Me and Phil. Phil and I. Together._

_We get back in the car. His car. Our car. It feels right, but also wrong. This is what we're supposed to be doing. This is what I want to do. I just can't shake the feeling that something dark is looming._

_I'm afraid._

_I think that's allowed, considering._

_"Do you think I should refill the car?" Phil asks as he starts it up. I shrug, not really giving a fuck. It doesn't make a difference to me, we're not low enough for Phil to be sure it needs filling, so why the fuck bother? I don't utter a response, instead staring out of the window, thinking about everything and nothing all at once._

_What are my parents going to do when they find out that I'm gone? What will Phil's do? Are they going to come and find us? I'm not sure how difficult that would be for them, but I don't really want to find out. Maybe it'll only take a matter of days. If that's the case, we're fucked._

_"Why are you so quiet?" Phil asks me. I didn't realize I was being quiet, I was just deep in thought. "Are you having second thoughts Dan? You can talk to me-"_

_"No," I cut in, trying to sound sure of myself. "This was my idea Phil, I want to do this. I want to get away!" He grins at me, clearly relieved. I return the smile, trying to reassure him that I'm excited about this. I am. I should be._

_"Me and you against the world," Phil says. There are bubbles in my tummy, the good kind, the purest kind. I feel the familiar rush of love for him, and hope that's enough to keep all the negative vibes away. "Fuck the rest of them Dan, fuck them!" He laughs and I join in._

_"Fuck our parents," I say, "Fuck Cat, fuck Chris, fuck Cassie and Marcus and every other fucker-"_

_"Me and you," He repeats, still laughing. I think it's just the nerves. "We don't need anyone else. I don't want anyone else! Not ever."_

_The excitement seems to overtake the worry, and suddenly I don't feel so bad about this anymore. I feel almost empowered, liberated by the idea of me and Phil actually running away together. I've never wanted anything more._

_Fuck them all. They can't make me feel guilty. They drove me away. I shouldn't worry. I shouldn't feel anything but excitement._

_"How long before they notice we're gone?" I question. Phil shrugs. His eyes are locked on the road, so it's hard to read his expression, but I can tell he's thinking about it._

_"Maybe a day," He says, "If we're lucky. Mine will notice first, probably."_

_"Definitely-" I'm cut off by my mobile ringing. I sigh and pull it out of my pocket, no intention of answering it. I can't at this point. I check the caller ID anyway, just out of curiosity._

_"Who is it?" Phil asks, concern evident in his voice. "Don't answer."_

_"I won't," I mumble, "It's just Cat." I reject the call and slide it back into my pocket. Cat doesn't need us anymore. We offered her help so many fucking times, and she just keeps messing herself up. I'm done helping her. I should have been done with her a long time ago._

_"Isn't it weird thinking we'll never have to speak to her again?" Phil says, smirking. I feel a stab in my gut._

_I hadn't thought of it like that._

_Never speaking to Cat again? That seems so extreme, so serious. Is that really what I want? No fucking way, even if I don't want to talk to her right now, it's not forever. Maybe Phil doesn't mean it like that though. Maybe he just means that we don't have to. Yeah, that's what he means. We don't have to speak to any of them again._

_But I probably will, in my own time._

_"Yeah," I mutter, "Really weird." The phone rings again. I put it on silent. She must really need me. Too bad. I needed her and she wasn't there. She doesn't need me. She practically said so herself. Maybe she just wants a place to hang out or to know where Phil or Chris or someone is. There are so many possibilities, it probably isn't that bad._

_"Shit," Phil moans, "I totally forgot they shut the road that leads to the roundabout-"_

_"Go the other way," I shrug, "Can't you get round if you go by the park-"_

_"I've got no idea," Phil huffs, "Let me just turn around and see. I think if I go round the park and then by that industrial estate, that road keeps going up to the roundabout anyway so-"_

_"I'm right then," I say, smirking. Phil nods and begins to reverse. I start fiddling the with radio, then decide to go for a CD instead. It's all shite on the radio, always. "What music do you fancy?"_

_"Anything," Phil mumbles, focused on the road. We're driving by the park as he speaks. I look at it fondly, trying not to get sentimental. We had some fucking amazing memories there, but it's just a patch of land isn't it? It's just a fucking park, nothing special._

_I pull out the first CD I see: The Clash - London Calling. I slide the disk in and sit back, looking out of the window again._

_"Oh fuck sake," Phil moans, "It's busy as fuck now, everyone will have been diverted this way-" Phil's phone rings._

_I look back down at my own to see over ten missed calls from Cat. Three from Chris. Fuck._

_"Ignore them," Phil says, "We can't let them distract us now." I nod in agreement, but I can feel the curiosity getting the better of me. Something bad must have happened, that's the most logical explanation._

_"They're not going to stop," I groan as both of our phones begin to ring again. Phil mumbles under his breath, stressed as fuck, and begins to pull his own phone out of his pocket._

_"Phil don't-" I snap, reaching over to snatch it, but he's holding too far. I can't reach with my seat belt in._

_"Dan let me-" He's saying something, but I'm not listening, trying to grab for his phone. He shouldn't have it in his hand whilst he's driving! It panics me. I manage to get hold of the edge, and Phil gives in, releasing it. "Don't answer it Dan they're- fuck!"_

_"What were you going to-" I look back up, curious as to where the sudden 'fuck' has come from. "Fuck!"_

_I'm screaming, Phil is yelling and slamming down on the brakes, but he's too slow, or the other car is too fast._

_I shut my eyes, refusing to watch as the two cars collide, instead feeling the huge jolt followed by shards and shards of glass scattering across me._

_Instinctively, I open my eyes again, just as a third car knocks into Phil's side. I'm still screaming, but Phil suddenly stops and my own breath is taken for a split second as the car is knocked, the impact sending us flying back and back._

_I feel nothing but pure panic._

_The car is rolling back, it's not stopping. I'm screaming again. I look to Phil, for a split second, my heart hammering in my chest as I fear it might be the last time. He's so pale, so soft, eyes closed and mouth open as if he wants to scream. I'm screaming loud enough for the both of us. His right side is covered in blood, but I can't look at him long enough to know where it's come from, the smashed window is a big enough clue._

_The image is burned into my mind. I won't ever forget it, how he looks at this moment. Dead. But he can't be. Not my Phil._

_The car suddenly stops, and I jolt forward once again, harder, and suddenly I can feel every bone in my body. It's silent, my desperate breaths the only thing around. I can barely get them out, my head too light to focus on pacing my breaths._

_I'm panicking, but I'm too..._

_Too something..._

_I can't scream. I can't sob. I can barely move. My head is hurting more and more by the second, each passing one feeling minutes longer._

_I look to the side one last time._

_There's something running down my forehead. I can't go to wipe it. I turn back, the image burnt into my mind, and then my eyes close again. Involuntary._

_I hear the phone ringing again, one last time._

_And then nothing. ___

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a little quicker than last time, hopefully I'll start picking up again? (no promises yet lovelies)   
> I hope you enjoyed this though, I absolutely love reading your feedback so feel free to give me something, for now, peace out X


	36. Breaking Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have triggers, read the notes at the end first. I was going to put warnings here but didn't want to spoil it for those who don't.

Something is dripping on my forehead.

Something is dripping all over me.

It's dark and my eyes won't open, fear of what I'm going to see along with the general fatigue I currently feel.

I'm soaking and uncomfortable, something that feels vaguely like hard wood below me, supporting my entire body, but not shielding me from the...rain?

My eyes open, and suddenly it all comes rushing back.

The crash.

I remember the crash.

I jolt up right, looking around, half confused when I realize I'm no longer in the car, and even more so when I see where I am.

I have no fucking clue where I am.

My first instinct is to cry, and the tears fall without my say so. I can't help it, I can't stop them, they just fall.

I stand, but I feel weak and tired, as if the life has just been drained from me. I remember the feeling, the ghost of the pain I felt in that car lingering, as if I can still vaguely feel it. It's easy to remember, easy to imagine. How did I forget something so sharp? Something so horrific? 

Phil, the image of him passed out in the car seat beside me, he's burned into my mind. How did I forget that too? He didn't look paralyzed then, but I couldn't really tell, and it's not like there are obvious signs. A person can't really 'look' paralyzed. I wonder what happened after I passed out. 

I would never have been able to remember that, regardless. I remember what was around me, the last things I could see through the windows, the setting. Not the same as on the photographs I recall seeing of the scene afterwards.

The car must have rolled some more. That's what fucked us up.

I rub my head and try to stand again, it takes far much more effort than I would like. I look around for the nearest shelter. It's clear I'm on a council estate of some sort, and it can't be too far out - how long was I walking for? It wasn't too long. It can't have been. 

There's a convenience store with a canopy out a little further up the road, and I walk there to escape the rain. Once under, I immediately to go to check my phone.

It's fucking imploding. There are at least fifty notifications and texts. I glance up and down the missed calls list. They started out just being from Mack and an unsaved number (I assume it's Freddy) and the more recent ones are from my mum. 

But it's the last one that shakes me to my core. The one that I only missed by two minutes. 

Phil.

Phil called me whilst I was passed out. 

I immediately go to ring him back, my heart hammering in my chest. What could he have possibly wanted? 

It rings. I wait. Nobody picks up and my chest begins to tighten. I ring again, hoping that maybe he just didn't get to the phone in time, or that it was just on silent. There are so many logical explanations for why Phil may not answer immediately, but my mind refuses to accept any of those, automatically coming to much darker conclusions.

It rings again. No answer. I try a third time, but no luck. A forth. A fifth. It becomes clear that Phil isn't going to pick up, but the panic sets in. Why won't he pick up? What has he done? He only rang two minutes before I rang back, why would he suddenly not pick up? 

Possibilities and scenarios float around my head, but no matter how little evidence, how illogical it may seem, I have my mind fixed on the idea that something bad has happened. It's my gut feeling, and I trust my gut.

I ring again, one last shot before I have to figure something else out, and yet again I'm met with the answer machine. I lock the phone again, ignoring the mounds of other messages and calls that I should probably respond to, and instead beginning to walk further away from the direction I came. 

I'm not turning back.

I keep messing around on my phone, mostly trying to call and text Phil, until it dies only two minutes later. I want to scream, but I don't have the energy. It's just my fucking luck really, to have no phone charge and no sense of direction in the middle of fucking nowhere. 

I don't know where I am, but I know I want to go to Phil's. I know where he lives now, kind of. It's pretty far, but if I can just find a bus stop or get to a tube station, maybe I can make my way there. 

It's unrealistic, I'm aware, but the voice in the back of my head is pushing me to do it anyway. I need to see Phil. I need to, and if that means travelling half way across London in the pouring rain, then so be fucking it.

I'm fueled by my frustration. 

I continue walking in the same direction, until I begin to get a sense of familiarity. I know I've been around here before, I know I've seen the buildings around me, I just can't place when or where. I brush it off, assuming it's probably from something long ago, before the crash, before the move.

Yet the sense doesn't leave me. I follow my gut, taking a few turns instead of heading straight forward. I'm probably not going in the right direction to Phil's, or even a bus station or anything of such, but where I'm going feels familiar enough to be right. 

I'm walking for at least another five minutes before my surroundings become clear. I recognize a building in the distance, it kind of near school, but kind of not. I keep walking towards it, and when I reach the front of the block, I realise that it's really really familiar.

Shit. 

I look to my left, there's a long stretch but I know the way. It's where I came with Chris when we were walking to the pub that Martyn works at. If I went back around the corner, I could make it back to school within ten minutes, and then home in another ten. 

It's twenty minutes to Martyn's pub, but it's all in a straight line. I could make it. I have no idea what time it is, but I know the place opens at five. If I were to wait outside, even if Martyn wasn't working tonight, maybe someone could put me in touch with him.

It's not the best option. I could turn and go home, settle down in bed with my phone and just keep calling Phil. That would be the smart thing to do, I know it. 

Yet regardless of this, I find myself walking towards the pub. It does only take twenty minutes, and I've been walking forever anyway, it doesn't really make a difference to me or my aching legs. 

The pub is open when I arrive, telling me that five o clock has definitely passed. I never thought to look at the time when I had checked my phone, but that may have been a wise choice. I walk inside the pub, feeling nervous and far too self-conscious. I must stick out like a sore thumb among everyone else inside.

The bar is relatively quiet, which does nothing to ease my state of distress. Is it better that it's quiet? Or does it just mean people will pay more attention to me? I approach the bar, very aware of the fact I look much too young to get served. The barmaid, a different girl from the last time I came in, is already looking me up and down. 

I'm shaking when I go to speak, "Is Martyn here?" I ask. She frowns. She's older, maybe mid forties, but with short brown hair in a neat bob. If she wasn't covered in tattoos and piercings, she'd probably look kind of mum-sy.

"Why?" She asks, her tone hostile.

"Family emergency," I lie, kind of. Is it a lie? For all I know, this really could be a family emergency. When the barmaid realizes I'm not looking to get served, her expression softens.

"He's in the back love, I'll get him," She says, and disappears into the back room. Less than a minute later she comes back, followed out by a very concerned Martyn. I smile at him, but his expression tightens when he sees me stood there. 

"Is everything alright Dan?" He asks, frowning at me as he walks me over to a table in the corner. I nod then shake my head, completely unsure.

"I need to see Phil," I say, feeling myself choke up as the words come out. "He won't answer his phone, he won't talk to me and I'm worried and-"

"What's happened?" Martyn cuts in, as if he's missing something. He sits me down and I rest my head against the wall, almost defeated. "Dan?" 

"I don't know," I mumble, but the panic is still clear in my voice. I wish I could explain it, but I know deep down I'm freaking out over something probably trivial. If I tell Martyn the truth, or a version of it, he'll throw all of the logical explanations at me and I just don't want to hear those, I can't; it's as if my mind refuses to trust them. "I need to see him." 

"Why? What's happened?" Martyn continues to quiz, "Is he okay?" 

"I have no idea," I reply, feeling the lump in my throat thicken. I'm going to start crying, I know it. 

"How do you know he isn't okay?" It was the question I dreaded, mostly because I have no logical answer.

"I feel it in my gut," I tell him, hoping that's enough. It isn't, and the look on Martyn's face tells me that, so I expand. "I remember the crash now. It came back to me. I-"

"Is that why you want to go and see him?" He cuts in, frowning, "I can't just get off work and drive you down Dan-"

"Listen to me," I plead, interrupting. He sighs, but shuts up. "I passed out, you know, when it came back to me, and he had called me whilst I was out. He never calls me. I missed it by two minutes, just two minutes - but he won't pick up again." 

Martyn looks reluctant, like I knew he would. He looks back to the bar before turning to me again, his expression a little softer. "Hardly a family emergency." His tone is almost playful. I shrug, unsure of how else to respond. 

"I need to see him," I repeat, quieter. He nods, as if he understands. I'm not sure that he does, but I'm sure he wants to and that's all I can really ask of him.

"I know you do," Martyn says, "Do your parents know where you are?" 

"No," I scoff, "Nobody does. My phone died when I was walking around."

"What phone is it?" He asks. I hold it up, to show it's an Iphone. "Come sit in the back, you can charge it with my charger." 

"Thank you," I mumble, standing back up. I follow him back round into the back room where I was with Chris the last time I came here. Martyn get's his charger out of a backpack and plugs it in for me. I sit by the plug, holding my phone impatiently. 

"Maybe he rang back," Martyn says, as if reading my mind, "Or text. I don't know. But check. If there's nothing still, I have a break in an hour. I'll drive you up, yeah?" My stomach bubbles with an imbalanced mixture of gratitude and excitement.

"Fucking brilliant," I gush, "Thanks so so much-"

"Don't worry about it," Martyn shrugs, "Might get me out of work for a little longer." He smirks, then returns to work, but leaving the door half open. I resist the urge to shut it.

When my phone finally loads up, I'm fucking gutted to see there's nothing, but I'm hardly surprised. The only new notification is another voicemail message from Mack. I never usually listen to them, but she's left a couple, so I decided to flip through them.

The first one plays, "Hi Dan, hope you're not too pissed. We're all really sorry, just please come back or like text or something-" It's Mack, and I can tell it won't be exciting. I end and delete the message. 

The second voicemail begins to play. The automated voice reads out the number, not the contact name, but it's different to the one it read out for Mack. I know before it even begins to play that it will be Freddy. 

"Hi Dan." I was right. I immediately end and delete the voicemail. There's another, which I automatically assume is the one that Mackenzie just left.

I don't pay attention to the number. I just prepare myself to delete it.

"Danny?" The voice knocks me into shock.

Phil.

"I get you're busy. I'm sorry to call. I shouldn't. I shouldn't be back in your life at all, really." 

I didn't know he'd left a message. I had no fucking clue, but the sound of his voice is enough to make me shake. Every bad feeling I had was right. Phil sounds broken, his voice completely hoarse - and the things he's saying. What the fuck? 

Bad feeling seems like an understatement.

"But I'm just ringing because I wanted to hear your voice. I think about you all the time and I'm sorry you can't see me. I'm sorry I don't tell you I still care, I'm sorry for so many things." His voice is broken and I can tell he's crying. It tears me up inside. I want to cry for help, but I want to listen to the message first. I'll show Martyn after.

"I'm sorry I left you," Phil continues, "I don't know why I let that happen. I regret it, but there was nothing I could have done. There's nothing I can do. Not at all. And it's killing me, Dan. You won't know about all that. You only know lies, everything they told you-" His voice cracks again.

"Phil," I say, as if he can hear me. It's only when I've opened my mouth to speak that I realize I'm crying too. 

"I don't really know what they told you," He sobs, "I just know they won't tell you the truth. You can't even remember, that's worse. You don't know it's lies, or maybe you do. I hope you do, but then you'd know I lied to you too and I wish I hadn't. I lied. I lied and..." 

My mind flashes back to something he once said to me, it was a flashback I had not long ago, where we were merely brainstorming about running away - nothing serious. He said he'd never lie to me.

What did he lie about? What was worth breaking that? Do I even have a right to be hurt?

"This is all going to sound like nonsense," Phil continues, "I'm sorry. I'm just so sorry. I wish we could have met again. I know you know about my legs. I hate them. I hate myself. It's a mess. You'd understand, you always did and I'm so grateful for that. I'm so grateful you were in my life." 

Were. What the fuck? What is he fucking talking about?

I think I already know.

It's scaring me to the core. 

"And I'm just calling to say that I'm sorry, and I love you. And I hope you're happy. I really hope you find that."

The voicemail ends and I'm sat, frozen in a mixture of fear and panic. He needs me.

"Martyn," I cry out, the desperation comparable to that of a baby crying for it's mum. I sound pathetic, but I'm past caring. "Martyn!"

He comes bounding in, as if he knows something is horrifically wrong. I replay the voicemail, putting in on speaker this time. He listens, without saying a single word. His face crumples though, and tears like my own begin to fall. As soon as the message ends, he reaches over to his bag in the corner and gets his keys from the pocket.

"We need to go," He says, his voice firm. I nod, wiping my eyes. I stand and follow him to the car. His co-workers say nothing as he marches out of the front door, perhaps due to the fact we're both crying. I'm glad they didn't question us, we don't need to be stopped. We don't have time to waste like that.

"Do you think he'd do it?" I don't want to ask, but I have to. I need to know, validate my worrying. "Would he?" 

"It wouldn't be the first time," Martyn mumbles, his voice thick as if he's on the verge of crying again. I'm still sobbing, I doubt I'll stop anytime soon. The panic is overwhelming, it feels like every second in the car is a second wasted.

"How would he do it?" I question, "Won't Quinn- Fuck." Will Quinn even know? He probably won't be with him right now - Phil would never have left that message had he been around. Maybe he left Quinn a message too. Maybe Quinn hasn't heard that yet-

I'm taunting myself, but I can't stop.

The idea that we could walk in and find Phil...

I can't bear it. I'm sobbing again - loud ugly sobs. Martyn doesn't respond, focusing entirely on the road ahead. He somehow knows the way, I can only assume he's drove round those parts before. 

"Do you know which apartment it is?" Martyn asks me. I nod, recalling last night. He pulls up around the corner from the halls, and we rush out of the car. I don't think he even stops to lock it, instead running with me. 

I run directly to the building, my feet pounding against the floor faster and harder than they ever have before, my throat burning with every gasp. It occurs to me that I haven't had a drink all day, I haven't even eaten. That's the last thing on my mind though. Every other thing is irrelevant. Nothing matters.

Except from Phil.

The halls are eerily quiet, and the noise Martyn and I are making seems intrusive and wrong. I bang on the front door of his apartment, regardless.

When the door isn't immediately opened, I try the knob. It's locked, obviously. Martyn sighs and we both begin kicking at it. I begin to bang my fist against it, screaming Phil's name as I do so. He's in there. He has to be.

"What the fuck?" Someone says from behind us. I don't turn, I don't stop. They grab me, pulling me off of the door. I stumble back and turn to see Quinn, glaring at me with vague suspicion. I feel sick.

He has no idea.

"Martyn?" Quinn gasps, staring him down. Martyn gulps, then nods. I'm frozen, but my mind is racing. We're wasting time. We're fucking wasting time. Family bullshit can wait. Phil can't, not for all we know.

"You need to go in," I plead, "Now!" Quinn frowns and pulls out his door key, opening it agonizing slow.

"Quick," Martyn urges, equally as frustrated as me. Quinn pushes the door open and walks inside, but only two steps in, he stops dead.

The sickness inside of me grows stronger. Every alarm in my head is blaring, full volume. I can't tune out. I can't pretend this isn't happening. I have to face it.

I rush inside, following Martyn. By that time, Quinn is on his knees, wailing into his hands. Martyn runs over, but I'm frozen. 

Phil is laid out, his chair on the floor a meter away. He's choking, his body spasming as he sweats and cries. There's a pool of vomit next to him, and at the other side, empty boxes upon empty boxes of pills.

The sight knocks the air out of me. 

This is the first time I've seen Phil in over a year.

And I'm pretty sure he's dying.

.

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes attempted suicide // TW
> 
> So as dark as it got, I hope it was worth the wait? I was going to say I hope you enjoyed it, but that doesn't sound right. I don't know, but thank you so so much for reading, as always, feedback is loved and valued.


	37. Waiting Games

Three Hours. 

We've been at the hospital for three hours. Just waiting. 

It's torture, it drains my soul I swear.

Martyn called an ambulance, it had arrived in under five minutes. Martyn went with him in it, because Phil is his brother, and somehow that makes him more important. I was too distraught to question that or protest. Quinn didn't either, maybe he understood, maybe he just couldn't bare seeing Phil in such a state. 

He managed to pull himself together and drove us there, probably speeding a little. We arrived and they told us the ward, where we've been sat waiting outside the room.

For Three Hours.

Nobody has contacted his family yet. Martyn tried to ring his mother, but she rejected the call. He refuses to try again. I'm kind of glad they aren't here, I don't really want to face them right now, or ever again if I can help it. That's definitely not a conversation I'm looking forward to.

If I ever even have to have it. If Phil doesn't come around, they probably won't even acknowledge my existence. 

Quinn stands up, distracting me from my thoughts. I look up at him, curious. He hasn't moved since we sat down, and the entire time has been completely silent. He clears his throat and wipes his eyes. "Do you want to come for a cig?" I nod. 

I don't even smoke, but I accept the offer for the sake of something to do. 

We walk outside silently and the smoking area is completely empty. He sits on the bench and lights a cigarette before offering me the packet. I take one, for the sake of it. I'd feel too awkward rejecting it after coming with him for a smoke, so I sit down beside him and he hands me the lighter.

It lights up first spark and I breath it back how I assume they all do, but I can't stop the cough that follows, choking me up way more than I had expected it to. Quinn looks at me, no judgement in his eyes, and smirks. It's the first time he's smiled all day. 

"You don't smoke do you?" He asks. I cough again, then clear my throat.

"No," I admit, also smirking. He rolls his eyes at me, but he's still got the small smirk on his face. I take another drag, and this time the cough is smaller. The third time I don't cough at all, but my throat feels raw. 

"I started at fourteen," He tells me, "I was one of those kids that skived class and got into fights. I fucked up at school, wanted to be all cool and tough. This guy in the year above started giving me them for free so that I'd hang out with him, I thought it was because he thought I was cool. Turns out he just clocked I was queer and wanted me on my knees." 

I don't really know why he's telling me this, but I get the sense it's distracting him. He doesn't want to talk about Phil. He doesn't want to think about the fact his boyfriend might be dying in the building behind us. I get that. So I let him continue.

"Did you get with him?" I ask, pretending to be curious. If this were in another scenario, another setting, a different time and place, maybe I would give a fuck. Right now I'm just hoping it will be interesting enough to distract me.

"Yeah," Quinn says, "We hooked up for about a year. He gave me cigarettes after every time. We got caught out at a party. Everyone started calling us benders, but nobody genuinely cared apart from him. He started ignoring me and I had to get my fags elsewhere." 

"Did you care?" 

"I thought I was in love with him," He explains, "In hindsight, I think I was more in love with nicotine. Everyone says your first heartbreak is your worst, but here we fucking are Dan. It can't get much worse than this, can it?" He asking me as if I'd know, but we're equally as clueless - both of us just hoping that this is as bad as it gets. The worry is enough, we don't want the reality.

"Where did you get the fags after he left?" I ask, completely ignoring his comment. I don't want to talk about it. I can't.

"I sponged them off a few mates," He explains, "But then I stopped for about a year. Only started back in the last year of sixth form. My ex-girlfriend used to give me them, after sex. Got me hooked once again."

"Were you in love with her too?" I continue to question him.

"Sure," Quinn says, "She was lovely, but it wasn't meant to be, we split before uni. What about you, Dan? You ever fallen in love?" I nod, but I can't bring myself to actually say it. Not to Quinn. 

"Was it Phil?" He asks me. I nod again. His faint smirk drops, but he nods at me. We take simultaneous drags. "He's easy to fall in love with." 

"Hard to fall out of love with," I add. Quinn closes his eyes, another tear falls. I want to cry again, but I don't. Part of me hopes I'm all cried out for today, but another part of me highly doubts it. The worst could be yet to come, that idea alone is enough to make me want to fall apart.

"I should have known he was going to do this," Quinn sobs, stubbing the cigarette out despite it only being half smoked. "He said he wanted to. He said he hated himself. He said it all the time." Part of me wants to be angry at Quinn - why didn't he do more to stop him? Why didn't he get more help? How could he not tell others that?

The more reasonable part of me understands that would have been hard for him, that it wasn't that simple, that now Quinn is going to blame himself anyway and that even had Quinn done everything he could have, ultimately, if Phil really wanted to do this, nothing could have stopped him. Not me. Not Quinn. Not his parents.

Nobody.

People with true desire to die cannot be stopped by other people, not always.

I feel my eyes swell as I take another puff. I let myself believe it's just because of the smoke.

"This isn't your fault," I tell Quinn, "It really isn't." I don't expect him to believe me.

"I never thought he'd really do it," Quinn continues, his voice smaller than I've heard it yet, "He seemed too determined to fix everything, too determined to live." 

"That's probably what he wanted you to believe," I suggest, but I have no real idea. I'm just as shocked and clueless as anybody. I can't imagine how tough this must be for him, the thoughts circulating in his mind. I'd drive myself crazy if I had reason to believe I could have stopped this.

I couldn't have. Not me. 

This is the first horrific thing to happen in my life recently that wasn't a result of my own actions. This was a choice he made, a tragic one at that. I could never have stopped Phil, I didn't even know he felt this way. 

"Was he depressed?" I ask, wanting to kill the silence. 

"Yes," Quinn mumbles, then louder, "But he didn't want to do anything about it. He said he was on enough medication anyway. I didn't want to force him - I should have-"

"You couldn't have," I cut him off, "And blaming yourself isn't going to fix anything. For all we know, this was always going to happen. Medication might not have stopped that. You could not have stopped that." 

"You don't know that," Quinn scoffs. 

"Neither do you," I counter, "So overthinking it will solve nothing." 

"I have nothing else to do but overthink," Quinn says, "I can't help it." I know the feeling too well. 

"Tell me another story," I request, needing the distraction, "Tell me about you and Phil. How did you meet?" I know the story. Phil told me it, but I'd like to hear it again, from another perspective. It isn't a real distraction, not when the story is about Phil, but it's focusing on good things that happened, not bad.

"It was around nine months ago," Quinn begins, his voice shaking as he speaks, "I had just moved here and the flat I was living in was groggy as fuck, it was a really rough area. The guy living above me was hosting a party one night, being really fucking loud about it while I was trying to write an essay. Obviously I couldn't concentrate for shit, so I googled and found there was still a library open near me. I walked there, it was a good few miles and raining heavily, but I didn't care. I got there, fucking dripping wet, and Phil was pretty much the only other person there. I didn't notice anyone else, anyway." He pauses, and I look at him with as much sympathy as I can bear.

There's no jealousy from me, no bitterness. All of that has faded at this point.

"I sat next to him, and he asked me why I was so wet and if I was alright. We got talking, we sat in the library and talked for three hours. It shut at eleven, I hadn't even finished my essay, but I didn't care. We went for a walk, it wasn't raining anymore, and the sky was starry as fuck. We were walking around until three am. We both got cabs home after we'd exchanged numbers. Then I went back to the library the next day to finish my essay and he was there." 

"Sounds like something from a fucking love story," I say, smiling softly. Quinn nods, he's also smiling, but there are tears rolling down his cheeks. He's smiling at a fond memory, he's crying in fear that there'll be no more. I understand that feeling.

"It felt like it," Quinn sighs, "It always did with him." 

"I get that," I mumble, wiping my own tears away. 

"I don't want to go back in," He says, "I don't want to know if something bad has happened." 

"I don't think much will have changed," I tell him, "It's only been like, ten minutes."

"Things always happen when you're gone though," Quinn shrugs. I can't exactly argue with that logic after today. Things do always happen when you're not there.

But that doesn't make it your fault. I guess that's the important thing to remember, even if it's not relevant in this particular context.

We go back in anyway, my expectations practically non existent. Martyn is still sat outside Phil's room, stoney faced and silent. I can't blame him for that, and I don't expect Quinn to continue telling me stories when we go back inside either. I think the short ten minutes of conversation has set us both up for another solid hour at least. The ward doesn't feel the right setting for conversation. 

It surprises me when we sit back down and Quinn starts to chat again. "I've never really been in many hospitals before." 

"That's lucky," I respond, unsure of how else I'm supposed to. I'm not entirely sure that I'm really feeling more conversation, but if it's going to make Quinn feel better I suppose I can hardly ignore him. 

"I came to A and E when I was fourteen," He continues, "I cut my arm open on some glass, everyone was convinced I'd done it on purpose. I hadn't. It was a pure accident. Then after that, I didn't come for years. Phil never wanted me to come with him to appointments here. I came with him once. That was the last time I was here. It was a month ago." 

"How was that?" I asked. 

"Boring," He said, "Didn't plan on coming back so soon." It seems like an almost light-hearted comment to make considering, but I know there's a much more depth behind it than that. It's far from light.

"I don't think anyone plans to come here," I say, "Or at least nobody wants to plan that." 

"It's one of those things-" Quinn shuts up, his eyes flicking straight to the door that now opening. I draw in a breath as the nurse walks out, her face scarily neutral and her body language conflictingly unreadable. She shuts the door behind her before turning to us.

"Is he alright?" Quinn asks, before the nurse has even had a chance to open her mouth. I can relate to his eagerness. The suspense is killing me. Martyn looks up too, his face pressed in a tight frown.

"Right now," She says, "It's difficult to tell." I feel a sickness hit me. It's a familiar one. An awfully familiar one.

I close my eyes and let out a soft grunt, willing it away. I can't bear it, not right now. But it's not going away, it's getting worse. I feel my head getting lighter, the room beginning to rotate oh-so-slowly. 

"He's going to live," The nurse continues. I'm half listening. I hear a small sob of joy come from Quinn, but my eyes are pressed shut and my hands are gripping the chair arms, trying to stop the room from spinning so much. It does nothing. I'm losing it.

For the second time today. I grunt again, worried. Confused. It never happens twice.

But it's happening now, I can feel it coming. 

"But we don't know what state he's going to be in when-" 

"Dan?" I can't make out the voice.

"Is he alright?" It's all getting too distant.

"Oh shit." 

"Help me," I manage to mumble.

"What the-"

And before I know it, I'm gone again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late again, I know and I'm sorry. Life just gets in the way sometimes and writers block is a bitch. Also, I've got a couple of other things in the works so watch this space.  
> I hope this was worth the wait, until next time it would be great to read your feedback againnn.   
> Peace and love x


	38. Full Circle

_I told him not to tell them. I said we should run anyway, no word to our parents. Phil wasn't so keen on the idea. He wanted to leave them a reason, something to dwell on._

_Or something to ease the pain for them._

_Something to make them love him a little bit less._

_That was why he told them, I know it. Even if he refuses to admit that._

_I knew they'd react awfully, everyone did. Even Chris and Cassie told him it was stupid - not that we really take on board much of what they say._

_We're done with them. We have to be._

_Phil will be over any minute, then we're going to head out. Chris and Cassie have no idea that this is the last time they'll see us. It's better that way._

_We've packed everything, it's all in the car. I just need to calm Phil down before we leave, that's all. He can't drive properly in such a state. It's not safe, and I don't want to have to watch him like this for the entire journey - I hate seeing him upset._

_"This is his own fault," Cassie scoffs, "There was no reason for him to tell them. His mum thought me and him were still...you know...so he didn't need to tell her anything. Phil just puts himself in these situations-"_

_"Shut the fuck up," I cut in. She's wrong. She always is and I don't want to listen to her bullshit right now. I won't have to ever again if I don't want to. I'll miss Cassie the least._

_"Not everyone likes lying to their parents about who they are," Chris sneers at her. Cassie rolls her eyes. Her parents think she's an angel. Only, angels don't usually steal weed from their addict friends to sell on to other stupid addicts._

_That's just my humble opinion though._

_And probably Cat's too._

_They hate each other now. I'm pretty sure Chris hates them both. It's messy. Oh, so fucking messy._

_"Stop being a pretentious prick," Cassie grumbles. She flops down on the couch beside me. I stand back up. "Oh fucksake, Dan-" The door opens and Phil bursts in._

_He's crying._

_I rush towards him and his arms close around me instantly. We hug for at least a minute, Chris pacing up and down beside us and Cassie unmoved on the couch. They don't matter anymore though. They can't._

_"Stop crying Phil," I say, in my fucking terrible attempt to cheer him up. He won't though. Nothing's going to cheer him up, not right now. He just needs time I suppose. "It'll be okay."_

_"Don't lie to me," Phil sobs, "It's all fucking ruined, I should never have told them."_

_"You had to," I tell him, "You know that."_

_I'm shitty at comforting people. I wish I was as good as he was, he always knows what to say and do to make everything feel as if it will be okay. I wish I had that gift. I'm just awkward and quiet. I'm probably making this worse for him. He needs a real friend around him, someone who can actually help. I'm just fucking useless._

_"No Dan," Phil cries, "I didn't. I was an idiot. I should've waited. Now it's all a mess and they all hate me-"_

_"Nobody in their right mind could hate you," I offer. Phil looks up at me and attempts a smile. He looks so... afraid? Lonely? Disappointed? All of the above._

_"You're too sweet Dan," He mutters, wiping under his eyes. I shift uncomfortably, not knowing how to really handle compliments. They just make me feel kind of embarrassed, still, that doesn't stop Phil from giving them to me every chance he gets. He's too kind though._

_"Yeah right," I mumble, rolling my eyes. I let him rest his head on my shoulder, appreciating the physical contact. I'm not a 'touchy' person (that sounds weird but you know what I mean) but when I'm sad I really like hugs. Maybe Phil will take comfort from the physical contact too._

_I gently run my hand through his hair, pushing it back off of his forehead. It always gets in his face, and the tears are making it stick._

_"Thank you Dan," He whispers. I shrug because to me it's no big deal, I'm just trying my best to be a good friend, like he is to me every single day._

_"What did they actually say then?" Chris asks, frowning and cutting in. Phil simply shakes his head, which is not the detailed response Chris was hoping for._

_"Doesn't matter," Phil says, rubbing his eyes, "We need to go Dan. Sooner the better."_

_"Already?" Chris scoffs, "You've been here two minutes! Have a drink, I've got some Monster Munch in, chill for a bit."_

_"As appealing as that sounds," I answer for him, "We really do have to go." He seems together enough to drive. I trust him. Phil is strong enough to put himself back together, even if just temporarily on the drive through._

_"Fuck sake," Chris sighs, "Well you better come through tomorrow, yeah?"_

_"Of course," Phil lies. He goes in for a hug, a proper hug. They're ever affectionate like that, but Chris doesn't seem to question it. Phil needs this, for more reasons than Chris knows right now._

_As soon as they break apart, I go in for the same. A goodbye like this is necessary. Maybe it makes it more painful, more final, but it feels more proper and that's what I need. I need this to feel real. It is real._

_Cassie stands and walks over, arms awkwardly by her side._

_"What's with all this love?" She asks, smiling. I let go of Chris and turn to her instead. She pisses me off sometimes, she really does. But Lord knows I love her. For that couple of minutes we're hugging, any bitterness I have about her past with Phil and the bullshit with Cat leaves me and it hits that I could never see her again. My grip around her tightens before I let go._

_"Sorry," I say to her, though she doesn't really understand right now, "We have to go. Thanks for everything."_

_"What?" Cassie sneer, shaking her head. "I'll see you tomorrow."_

_"Of course," Phil says, stepping in to give her a hug. They hold on for longer, before finally letting go._

_We leave then, without saying another word to Cassie or Chris. The walk down to the car is also silent, but that's okay. We're okay. Everything is going to be okay. ___

__I jolt up._ _

__My surroundings are unfamiliar at first, but after a second I'm hit with the memory of everything that's happened today, followed by deja vu like never before._ _

__I just had another flashback. In a hospital. But I've had the same one before. Less detail. I've remembered part of it before. Phil. He came out. I comforted him._ _

__Then I woke up._ _

__There was more to it than that._ _

__I didn't even know._ _

__Right now, I'm sat on a gurney in a hospital corridor. There are people around me, looking, talking. I'm not focusing on what they're saying. My head is pounding too much for that. It's only when the nurse in front of me starts clicking her fingers in front of my face that I bother to even look in her direction._ _

__"Daniel," She's saying, "Daniel I need you to look at me." I'm looking at her._ _

__Now I'm looking at Quinn behind her. Then back at her._ _

__"You just passed out," The nurse continues, "You've been in an unconscious state for twelve minutes. This isn't normal, Daniel. Are you feeling alright now? Still dizzy?"_ _

__"I'm fine," I mumble, rubbing my head. I am fine. "This happens a lot." I realise, as the words come out of my mouth, that I probably shouldn't have said this to a medical official. I never told my counsellor the extent of them. I never told her that I'd pass out, I just told her about the dreaming part. She said it was normal and threw spiritual bullshit on me. That won't pass in a hospital._ _

__"How often?" She asks me. I shrug. It's too late to take it back._ _

__"How's Phil?" I ask, ignoring her completely. My priorities are clear._ _

__"Daniel we're going-" I force myself up, ignoring whatever the nurse is saying to me._ _

__"Where is he?" I question. I'm being ignored too, and another nurse approaches, a confused expression on her face._ _

__"Everything alright?" She asks as I proceed to stand and begin walking back to the seats. The first nurse is following me, saying things I refuse to acknowledge._ _

__"It might not be safe for you to just-"_ _

__"We need to do some scans Daniel-"_ _

__"I'm fine," I insist, sitting down. Quinn sits next to me and puts a comforting arm around my shoulder. He looks confused, pure and simple. Not sad though. Not broken. So Phil can't be too badly fucked up. Quinn would be beyond devastated if that was the case._ _

__"How's Phil?" I ask him directly._ _

__"They've pumped his stomach-"_ _

__"Daniel-" The nurse interrupts. The second nurse sits at the other side of me and places a hand on my shoulder._ _

__"We need to understand what just happened," She begins, "I've been informed that you fell unconscious-"_ _

__"I'm fine," I repeat, shaking her off. "No scans. No tests. I'm fine. I was just overwhelmed." They don't look convinced._ _

__"We'd at least advise you talk to your doctor about this," The second one says, "It might be serious, we need to understand and be aware if there's an issue and-"_ _

__"I'm seeing a doctor," I lie, "I'm seeing a psychiatrist. It's all fine." That's a half-lie. Maybe a three-quarter lie. I have seen a doctor. I was seeing a counsellor - slightly different to a psychiatrist._ _

__"Can we have the names?" The first nurse asks, but the second one shakes her head._ _

__"Why?" Quinn cuts in, "He's fine. He's healthy-"_ _

__"We need to inform them-"_ _

__"I can do that myself," I lie. I can't and I won't, they'd need to be real for that to be a possibility. I could tell my actual doctor, but I know I'd only be told the same as last time, and prescribed the same medication - which was completely useless. Plus, I don't want to stop any of the 'episodes' if it means I'll get fewer flashbacks._ _

__"Will you?" The second nurse asks. I nod at her, my most sincere facial expression painted on. She forces a smile back and stands again. "Very well."_ _

__Another nurse approaches, a cup of water in hand. She passes it to me and I force myself to drink it, despite not really wanting it._ _

__"Tell me about Phil," I say, as soon as I've gulped it down. Quinn looks to the nurse, but she looks back at Quinn, as if should be the one to explain it._ _

__"He's going to live," Quinn says, and that's all I need to hear to make my stomach stop twisting. "He's going to be okay."_ _

__"But he can't come home yet," The nurse explains, cutting in, "We're recommending he transfers to Neworth House." I know that name. I don't know what it is, or where it is. I look to Quinn for some further explanation._ _

__"They want to throw him in the looney bin," Quinn spits, obviously disgusted by the idea._ _

__"That isn't the case," The nurse protests, but with little enthusiasm. "We just feel it would be more beneficial to his mental health if he spent some time there."_ _

__"Is he awake-"_ _

__"Immediate family only," Quinn huffs, even more pissed._ _

__"Then what now?" I ask, shaking. Physically shaking. I need to see him, why don't they understand that?_ _

__"We wait."_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I definitely owe you readers an apology. It's been over a month with no explanation, and this chapter is nowhere near the standard it should be, but I'm drained and I can't wait any longer to post something. Hopefully things will begin to pick up again, but even if not, I promise you that this story will not go unfinished. Stay tuned, if you still are x


	39. Try

Three days.

Three days pass before I hear anything. 

Three days of constant overwhelming worry. 

I don't go to school. I barely go on my phone, and I don't bother checking social media. I lay in bed, stare at my ceiling and drift in and out of restless sleep. 

My parents think I'm ill. That was what I told them when I finally returned home on Sunday - drained and six hours late. I had gotten yelled at, but the ranting had gone in one of my ears and out of the other. Eventually my mums anger transitioned into concern, and I had the chance to lie to her about feeling really fatigued. 

Mum kept checking up on me at first, but now she's just leaving me to it, which is much preferable. 

It's dinner time when I finally bother getting up today. I've already missed two days of school so I'm not really arsed that I'm missing more. It's barely even crossed my mind to be brutally honest. All I can think about it Phil, it's as if nothing else matters.

Nothing else does at this point. 

Quinn hasn't even called me, nor has Martyn. I have no idea what's happened or how he's doing, so the questions are killing me. I've been talking myself into ringing all morning but for some reason, I just can't bring myself to pick up the phone and ask. I keep my mobile on me anyway, just in case I have an impulse - or just in case they call first.

I slide it into my dressing gown pocket when I go downstairs, getting something to eat for the first time in over forty eight hours. I told my mum that I was too full for my dinner last night because I'd been eating all day, but that was pure bullshit. I haven't touched any food since Monday morning. Eating hasn't really been on my mind, and I think seeing someone I love on the brink of death kind of shit on my appetite. 

Still, I know I need to at least try eating. 

The fridge is lacking, and I'm not in the mood for anything I can see in the cupboards. After a deep thirty second search, I decide there's not a single thing in the house I want to eat, and begin retreating to my room. 

I'm half way through my living room when I pass a glance out of the window, only to double take and see Connor stood outside my gate. It feels like my heart falls into my stomach.

I've barely given him a thought since Sunday - obviously that situation kind of fell down a few places on my list of priorities - but seeing him in person brings it all back up. 

He hasn't noticed me staring. His eyes appear to be fixed on the front door, one hand on the gate and the other awkwardly in the air. I can tell by his expression that he doesn't know whether to run through or back home.

I'm really hoping that it isn't the latter.

I stay watching him, ready to witness him change his mind and leave. That's what it looks like he's going to do.

And it's what he does. His hand leaves the gate and he begins to slowly retreat. 

I find myself getting even sadder, the hole in my stomach growing bigger. I think that's what urges me to actually move. I can't sit and watch him walk away. I won't. Instead, I find myself running towards the front door, out of it, and down the street.

"Con!" I yell, as soon as the gate has slammed shut behind me. He turns, a look of pure shock across his face. "Come back. Please." 

He freezes, as if he doesn't quite know what to do. I stop too. There's little less than two metres between us, and that's the closest we've been in what feels like a fucking long time. 

"I shouldn't," Connor says, "I'm sorry." 

"Please," I repeat. Desperation is an understatement, I sound like I'm pleading for my life. Connor looks sympathetic and to my relief, begins to walk back towards me. We hug. It lasts a second too long. He pulls himself out of my arms gently, and we go back inside.

"I didn't think you'd see me," He explains, "I only knew you were home because Dana told me you hadn't showed up at school today." 

"Did you get Mack's old phone then?" I ask. He nods, and holds it up. 

"For now," Connor says, "It's gonna have to do." 

"Better than nothing," I point out. Connor nods, then begins to chew his lip, looking around awkwardly. I'm not sure what he wants me to say or do. There's a lot I need to say, I just can't really find the words. "Do your parents know you're here?"

"Pulled a sicky," Con explains, "Mum and Dad are working until six." 

"Why'd you come here?" I don't need to ask, yet the words come out anyway. 

"I..." He lets his voice trail off, as if struggling to find the words. There's a lot that he could respond with, there are lots of reasons he's here and I'm fully aware of those. It's really not that complex. 

"You what?" 

"I just need to apologise," He says, "And you know, maybe explain myself. And I dunno, I guess I wanted to see you."

"Are you going to try with Freddy?" I ask him. Connor's eyes drop to the floor.

"It's messy Dan," He replies, barely audible, then louder, "Can we go inside? I'm just paranoid someone will see and-"

"Right, yeah," I mumble, and he follows me back inside. I think back to the last time I saw him here, sat on the couch with his parents, watery-eyed and terrified - the twist in my gut when I saw him. I didn't see him leave that time, I didn't get a chance to say goodbye. 

"So how come you aren't at school?" Connor asks, as if trying to avoid the inevitable conversation that he came here to have. He doesn't really care why I'm home, he just doesn't want to explain himself. He doesn't want to say what we need to say.

"Sick," I lie. I mean, to some degree I am very sick, just not the way I'm letting everyone think.

"Are you bullshitting about that too?" He questions, smirking. 

"Maybe," I say, "But I'm not as good as bullshitting as you." Connor doesn't even flinch, he just lets his smirk fall, shaking his head.

"I didn't lie to you," He mumbles, "Did I?" 

"Feels like you did," I say, "You told me you still cared about me and then I see you necking Freddy and-"

"I care about you both," He cuts in, as if that justifies it all. 

"You can't have us both," I scoff, "That isn't how it works-"

"You told Freddy to try again with me and he did-" 

"I didn't mean it was okay for you to fucking tongue in my fa-"

"Stop being dramatic we didn't know you'd walk in and-"

"I was next door, obviously I was going to walk in you absolute cretin-" My yelling it cut off, but not by Connor this time, instead by the sound of my ringtone. 

Connor is staring at me, eyebrows raised as if waiting for me to react. I carefully lift the phone from my pocket and check the number. It's Quinn.

Suddenly, Connor doesn't seem so relevant anymore.

"You going to answer that?" Connor asks. I don't respond to him, instead swiping to accept the call, and placing the phone against my ear.

"Hello?" It's about Phil, it has to be, and I'm scared to hear it.

"They've had him transferred," Quinn's voice is shaky and thick, as if he's just been crying, "He's in the psych hospital on fuck knows what meds-"

"Is he going to be okay?" I ask, because from the sound of Quinn's voice it doesn't seem that way.

"Eventually," Quinn says, "But not yet." My gut twists. That's not good, but I don't know why I expected any different. Of course he won't be okay right now, that's going to take a lot of time. 

"I'm guessing I can't come and see him," I mumble, feeling my heart drop a little bit upon realising this. I don't know much about how said hospitals are run, but I know that visiting regulations are usually strict. If it's reserved for family only I have no chance.

"Actually," Quinn says, "That's not the case this time."

"What?" I heard what he said. I know what he meant. Yet somehow, the words just don't seem right, they seem false and out of place. They sound too good to be true.

"You can come, Dan," Quinn explains, "He asked. He wants you to come and see him." 

"When can I?" I ask, hoping that it's sooner rather than later.

"Does this weekend work for you?" Quinn asks. I don't need to think about it, there's nothing in this world that I wouldn't be willing to pass up for the chance to see Phil again. I've come so close so many times, this time I need it to come through for me. 

"Of course," I can't respond quick enough, "What time?" 

"I don't know exactly," Quinn says, "I'll figure it all out and get back to you. I just thought you should know. He's thinking about you." 

"Thank you," I mumble, unable to think of a better response. Hearing that makes me want to cry - he's thinking about me. 

"I'll talk to you later Dan," Quinn hangs up after that, giving me no chance to ask anything else or even say goodbye. I slide the phone back into my pocket before I turn back to Connor, who's stood staring at me with a blank expression. 

We stare each other out for a couple of minutes before he bothers to speak up, "What was that about?"

"Phil," I say, "I'm going to see him." Connor raises his eyebrows.

"That's..." His voice trails off as he conjures a fitting word. I can think of a few. "Good for you." 

We stand in silence for what feels like an age. I would've spoken up sooner, but my mind was too occupied with the thought of seeing Phil again. Connor just looks completely unreadable, his expression vacant and his eyes fixed on the floor. 

"I thought I was over Freddy," Connor mumbles, continuing where our conversation left off. "I'm not - not fully. I didn't realise and by the time I had it was too late because I was in so deep with you and then-"

"You could have just told me," I cut in, although I'm not entirely sure that it would've sat well with me either way. It's just not something I want to hear. "I need honesty Con, my life is messy enough without any of this bullshit."

"I know," He says, "I didn't mean for it to go like this. I didn't mean to lead you on - not that I was. I just don't really know what I want and that's not fair on you or Freddy." 

"Yeah," I agree, "It's not." 

"Yeah," Connor replies, looking back to the floor, "So yeah, I'm sorry for all this bullshit. I'm really sorry about fucking everything up. I didn't mean to hurt you it just..."

"Collateral damage," I huff, shrugging. He nods, then shakes his head as if unsure. "So what now? Do you want me to say you're forgiven? Are you going to fuck off back home and ring Freddy? Will you-"

"Am I forgiven?" He asks, cutting in. I think about it. Why should I forgive Connor? Because ultimately, he fucked me over and humiliated me in front of Mack. I have every right to be angry. 

Then again, what would it solve? I could stay bitter forever, but it wouldn't solve anything. I don't know what I want, but I don't want to be miserable and angry, nor do I want the people around me to be. I can make this easy, even if it means saying something I'm not quite ready to say.

"You're forgiven," I say, forcing a smile, "But what now? Because that doesn't mean you have my blessing to keep kissing other boys in front of me. I mean, if you want to get with Freddy I can't stop you but the last thing I want is to see the two of you in my fucking face with it, you know?"

"Not likely," Connor sighs, "I talked to Freddy, obviously. He told me he can't go back to how it was, he realised he doesn't feel the same anymore. It's out of my hands, out of his too. 'Balls in your court Dan." 

I take a moment to process that. It wasn't long since Freddy was pouring his heart out to me about his feelings for Connor, and suddenly those have disappeared. I don't want to waste time pondering what changed them, but it would be interesting to know. Regardless, now I have another choice to make. Do I give Connor a second chance? Do I start again with him? 

Part of me wants to; part of me wants to throw myself, but another part of me is almost afraid of that. I'd get hurt again, without a doubt, but that isn't really my main issue because you risk that with any relationship. What concerns me more than anything is the fact I still have feelings for Phil, and I have no idea what impact seeing him will have on those. 

I remember how strongly I felt when I saw him again the other night, the inexplicable fear when I thought for a second he was going to die. It made me think I was in love again. The idea terrifies me, but I loved him before and I know it's possible that the feeling never went away. It would explain a lot - my determination to find him, how the sound of his voice alone made me feel, how overpowering my emotions were the other night. I know I still love Phil.

Yet part of me wants to tell Connor I'll try with him. Maybe because that would be the easy thing to do. If I'm with Connor, it might distract me from the fact that I can't have Phil anyway - Phil loves Quinn. I want to love someone else too. I want to have someone other than Phil to occupy my mind 24/7. If I'm with Connor, maybe I'll fall out of love with Phil and in love with Con. 

Maybe that would be for the best.

And I won't know if I don't try. It's not like I have anything to lose, either way I'm kind of fucked.

I think that's the mindset that pushes me to finally respond. 

"I want you," I tell him, "I want to try."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been almost two months, and I never thought it would get to that point. I have a million excuses but in all honesty, I've just been too busy to focus on my writing recently. Hopefully the next update won't be this short or this shit, and hopefully I'll have it out in half the time (I make no promises), but until then I hope you enjoy this. 
> 
> I'd also just like to reassure anyone wondering that I won't leave this project unfinished (if I do assume I've died)I swear this won't be abandoned.


	40. Back Then/Back Again

There were a lot of ways I had expected my day to go.

Ending up with Connor naked beside me in bed was not something I had anticipated. Not that I'm complaining.

He was no Phil, but I had a nice time, and he seemed to enjoy the half arsed BJ enough so it's a win-win really. 

We're still kissing, though I'm starting to get conscious of the time, Connor doesn't seem to care, acting as if we're in a world of our own. "I'm glad we're doing this," He mumbles into my neck.

"Me too," I say, and it's not really a lie. I'm glad, just not for the same reasons he is. And also I'm pretty sure my doubt and worry are overpowering my joy, but I plan on repressing that for as long as possible.

I should be bouncing through the ceiling with happiness after the day I've had, but something feels off and I know it's because of what I'm doing with Connor. I shouldn't keep seeing him, I knew that before I'd even agreed to it. 

Still, bad choices are my strong point and I think I should know that by now. When have I ever done the right thing and suffered no consequences? 

"What time is it?" I ask him, mostly for an excuse to sit up. He rolls off of me and checks the alarm clock sat on my desk. 

"Two," Connor says, "What time do you want me gone?" Right now would be ideal.

"When do you need to be home for?" I question, trying to act like I don't want him to leave as soon as possible. 

"My parents don't finish work until six," Connor replies, "But to be safe I should probably be home for like three, just in case my mum rings or something - she usually does when I'm ill." 

"Yeah, right, fair," I say, sitting up. "Pass me my clothes-"

"Are you done?" He asks, sounding almost shocked.

"Are you not?" I scoff. It's been nearly an hour, and I'm pretty fucking tired. 

"I am if you are," Connor shrugs, throwing me my joggers. I sigh and pull them on, unwilling to give him an explanation. "I hope you don't...nevermind." 

"Don't what?" I quiz. Did he expect me to not ask? You can't just start a sentence and not finish it, obviously I want to know what he has to say. 

Connor hesitates before responding, "I hope you don't regret it." 

"I don't," I lie. And with that, Connor gets dressed, kisses me goodbye and leaves.

I think he knows I'm unsure. I think he knows this isn't going to end well, we both do. But here we are, holding onto nothing. If he was that upset about it then he'd have already let go. It isn't my fault if he wants to stick around, is it? We both know the risk, and he decided it was worth it. 

I sit and justify my bad choices for a solid half an hour before I actually get up. I do nothing productive, sitting on social media for a while and watching pointless videos. It passes the time, considering that's all I'm waiting on now. 

I'm not sure what time it is when I get up and get back in bed, but it can't be that late because neither of my parents are home yet. 

For a while, I sit on my phone, mindlessly scrolling through the same social media over and over - but mostly because I want to be on it so that if Quinn calls me back I won't miss it. It's all I can think about now.

When I eventually throw my phone back onto the bedside table, I stare up at my ceiling and fantasise about how it's going to go with Phil. At my most optimistic, I imagine he'll tell me he loves me and we'll be together, but my more rational side keeps forcing me to accept that it's probably going to be an awkward and emotional conversation. Not that I care, I'd take anything and everything. 

I'm still daydreaming when I feel my eyelids begin to get heavy. I don't nap all the time, but I can always tell when I'm about to drift off, it's never really in my control, so I simply let it happen. After all, it passes the time.

_It's dark and rainy, a fitting atmosphere really._

_Cat ditched me in detention, skipping to go and meet Marcus. I don't really blame her, but it wasn't exactly the best choice she's ever made. Now I have to walk over to Chris's on my own. I haven't really spoken to Chris or Phil without Cat there and I'd still consider them more her friends than my own, but they're aware that it's just going to be me coming over tonight and they're fine with that, so maybe they don't just think of me as Cat's annoying friend._

_The walk is dull but it doesn't take as long as I anticipated. I go straight into the building and up to Chris's flat, knocking on the door. He answers almost straight away and I walk inside, dropping my school bag by the door. I take my tie and blazer off, trying to look older and more casual - difficult considering Chris is wearing pyjamas._

_"Hi Dan," He says, "Glad you're here actually, I'm off to the shop so you can wait here for Phil. We need more drinks and shit - do you want anything?"_

_"I'm alright thanks," I reply, trying to be polite. I do actually really fancy some Doritos, but I'm not about to ask my relatively new friend to buy me food._

_"You sure?" He asks, "Not even a drink request?"_

_"I'm not fussy," I shrug, sitting down on the couch._

_"Fair enough, I'll be about ten minutes," Chris calls as he goes into the bedroom. He comes back out a second later with a jacket on. "See you in a minute."_

_"Bye," I call, but he's already slammed the door shut. He seemed really in a hurry, but I don't think too much of it, instead joining a game on Battlefield 4. All of my attention is focused on that, it's much easier than thinking about how awkward tonight might be, or how Cat ditched me for some boy she barely knows just because she thinks he's fit. I could be angry if I wanted, but I don't have the energy or the fight left in me._

_I'm halfway through a match when there's a knock on the door. I don't lift my eyes from the screen, instead simply shouting, "Come in."_

_"Hi Dan," Phil says as he opens the door. He closes it gently behind him and walks inside, sitting down next to me on the couch. I only mean to lift my eyes for a second, just to acknowledge him with a smile, but as soon as my eyes are on him it's as if they're fixed there._

_I don't want to look away._

_It makes me blush, the stupid fucking crush I have on him, it's embarrassing. I'd die if he found out. Not that it isn't painfully obvious from the way I'm looking at him as if he's made of fucking gold._

_Hopefully it isn't that obvious. I mean, Cat kind of called me out for it, but she knows me better than anyone, so maybe to other people it isn't as bold._

_"Hello?" He repeats, prompting me to spit out some sort of acknowledgement beyond just staring._

_"Hi Phil," I manage to stammer, "I uh, I-Chris went- um, I think he's-"_

_"I passed him on the way," Phil cuts in, to my relieve, "Said he was off to the shop. I don't think he'll be long." Phil kicks his shoes off and leans back. I'm still looking at him, for some reason, but he isn't acting weirded out at all. Maybe I don't look as obvious as I think._

_"Oh," I mumble._

_"Yeah," Phil says, "Shame. Kind of nice without him." He's grinning so I know that he's only joking and manage to get out what I hope sounded like a cute giggle._

_"It would be a bit quiet without him," I reply. Phil shrugs._

_"Quiet is good sometimes," He says, and that's when I realise that he's staring back - the same wide eyed look I'm giving him, for some fucking reason, is being returned. Maybe he's doing it so I'll stop. Maybe he's doing it because he's equally as fascinated by my beauty (that is obviously a joke, maybe borderline wishful thinking)._

_"I like quiet," I second, smiling._

_"I'm glad," Phil says, "I'm quiet."_

_"I'd like you loud too-"_

_"Kinky-"_

_"Not like that!" I gasp, but Phil is laughing too hard to listen. I find myself joining in, despite how embarrassed I feel. I definitely didn't mean it like that. Or maybe I did a bit, but I certainly didn't want to put that image in his head._

_"You've died five times in the last two minutes," Phil whispers it, as if mocking what I just said. It takes me a minute to catch on, but then I look back to the TV, breaking eye contact to see that I completely forgot about the game I was in._

_"That's entirely your fault," I protest, quietly. He smiles at me._

_"How so?" Phil asks, "Did I kill you? I don't think-"_

_"You distracted me," I cut in, pretending to sulk, "I couldn't defend myself!"_

_"You have a point there," Phil says, "How can I make it up to you Danny?" He's smirking. I'm smirking back, bubbles in my stomach rising. Suddenly, I'm really fucking glad Cat isn't around._

_I don't have an explanation for the sudden rush of confidence. I don't exactly know why the fuck I thought it was a good idea to respond the way I did, but the worst case scenario never crossed my mind. Nor did best, "Surprise me."_

_He did._

_Not even a second passed after I'd spoken before his lips were on mine and suddenly, everything else stopped dead. Phil was kissing me and nothing else mattered._

_We stayed with our lips unmoving, simply pressing together with as much force possible, for what felt like forever. I feel his arm run down my back, tracing as he begins to move his lips, mine follow. I push into the kiss more, finding myself almost eager for more. I don't think I've ever felt this way before, I don't think-_

_There's a sound and Phil jumps back._

_The magic is done. Anything remotely romantic disapears as he stares at me, red faced and frowning. Did I do something wrong?_

_But no, of course not. The door swings open, and suddenly I couldn't be happier that Phil pulled away._

_Nobody can find out about this. Not ever._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been almost two months, but I promised I wouldn't leave it and I won't. It's not to the standard it usually is either, but believe me when I say that I'm more upset about that than any of you could be. I hope you're still enjoying this, it's almost coming to a close now (but maybe in six months when I find the motivation to write another chapter). I'm ever so sorry, all my love to anyone still bothering X


	41. Stuck

Saturday rolls around fast enough. I wake up shaking, the excitement and nerves are really getting to me. 

It was only last night that Quinn told me the time. Two o'clock. He's picking me up from PJ's so that my mum doesn't ask questions about the car. 

I haven't spoken to PJ all week, so I don't intend to actually go into his house and make conversation, I just plan on standing outside and hope he won't notice me. 

He doesn't. And after seven painful minutes of waiting in the somewhat shitty weather, Quinn pulls up across the road. I practically run to the car.

"Bad news and good news," Quinn says as I'm buckling in. I haven't even said hello yet.

"Good news first," I say. Quinn sets off. 

"He seems to be in a better mental state," He explains, "They have him on medication, I don't remember which, but he's also in a lot of counselling sessions and a therapist comes in to see him. They reckon he could be out in a couple of weeks." 

"That's great," I can't describe the feeling of relief, "Will he be okay today?" 

"I don't know," Quinn says, "I went to see him Thursday and he was a little bit quiet. He asked about you." I can't stop the smile from creeping onto my face.

"What did he say?" I ask. 

"He just wanted to know if you were coming," He replies, "I told him yes so that he had something to look forward to, but at the time I wasn't a hundred percent sure that you wanted to come. I was scared you'd change your mind." I understand that. Not everyone would want to see their depressed, disabled ex boyfriend in a psychiatric institute. 

"Never," I reassure him. "So what was the bad news?" 

"Visiting hour is a bit busy today," Quinn explains, "We should have had an hour, half an hour each with him - but his parents have demanded they come along too. So we have half an hour, or fifteen minutes each if you'd rather be alone with him."

"I would," I say, "If that's alright." By being alone with him, I'm basically taking away fifteen minutes of time Quinn could spend with him, and having fifteen minutes less with Phil myself, but I know that's for the best. I couldn't say everything I want to say if Quinn was there. 

"I don't mind," Quinn says, "It's what Phil wants that matters to me." 

"Isn't he allowed to refuse to see his parents?" If I were in Phil's position, that would be the first thing I'd do. Phil cares too much though, I don't know if he could do that to them.

"I think so, but he won't." We both know that's true.

The journey goes ahead almost silently, with only the low humming of the radio filling the emptiness, a cockney man talking way too enthusiastically about things nobody cares to hear with occasional intervals for songs that nobody likes to be played. I'd rather it have been silent, in hindsight. 

We get to the hospital and check in at the reception, I'm pretty much shaking as I sign my name on the visitors list. It hasn't quite sunken in for me that in a few minutes time I'll see Phil again, properly. I don't want to count the other night. I don't want to think about it. 

His parents are in the waiting room when Quinn and I walk in. They don't look surprised to see us, but they don't look happy. I assume they were told I would be making an appearance. I force a smile in their direction, though from what I remember they were never my biggest fans and I don't think the gesture will be appreciated. They ignore me, as expected, and Quinn and I take seats at the other side of the room.

"We're a bit early," Quinn mumbles, "I think his parents are going in first. Then it's up to you, if you'd like to go in first then you can, I don't mind." Part of me wants to see Phil as soon as possible, but another part of me is too nervous. I think I might need more time to think it all through. 

"You go before me," I say. Quinn doesn't question this, just nods. We sit and wait in silence then. Phil's parents go into the visiting room. 

Thirty minutes pass in silence, my mind not easing in the slightest during the short time period. When the door finally swings open again, my stomach drops. 

Fifteen minutes. 

Quinn looks at me again, "Are you sure you don't want to go first?" He asks. I nod. I'm far too nervous, which is hardly like me at all. 

Phil's parents walk past without giving us a second glance, not that it bothers me. I can't really focus on anything but what the fuck I'm going to say to Phil when I get in there. I'm scared it will feel different to how I remember. I'm scared he'll have nothing to say. I'm scared I'll freeze up or break down. There are so many things that could go wrong, it's sending my brain west.

I've tried to plan it out in my head, start with a hug, don't let it last too long - just a casual hug. Ask him how he is, discuss this briefly but not in too much depth - I don't think he really needs to explain his mental state, it's quite evident how he's doing at the minute. Then we'll make small talk about how much everything has changed, I'll slide an I miss you in there and maybe bring Cat and Chris up. I guess I can't predict every turn the conversation will take, but I'd like to think it won't be as cripplingly awkward as I'm picturing. 

Ten minutes pass. My stomach gets tighter. 

Another five. I watch the door, ready to jump up as soon as it opens. I want every second I can with Phil, but the clock keeps ticking and the door stays shut. I wonder whether it's appropriate for me to just go in anyway, but I'm scared they wouldn't appreciate that. It's probably important, or private - I can't just barge in. 

It occurs to me that they might end up being more than a couple of minutes late and I begin to panic. What if I don't get a turn? What if I only get five minutes?

Twenty minutes. Quinn has been in there twenty minutes. 

I'll have ten minutes to say everything I want to say, and somehow I don't feel like that's enough. 

Quinn comes out two minutes later, bright red and evidently upset. My stomach twists, but I don't stop to make conversation with him, instead barging straight past him and into the room. I can't think about anyone but Phil right now, Quinn's distress can wait eight minutes.

The room is nothing like I expected, not that I know what I was expecting, maybe something more prison like. There are sofas in every corner, the walls are a pale yellow and the furniture is mostly grey, a white wooden floor, magazines and newspapers on the tables. Bookcases in the corner. It's not medical or formal in any way. 

I see Phil immediately, my heart twisting and dropping just as I had imagined it would. He looks half dead, his face much slimmer than I recall, and his hair unstyled, flat but somehow still messy. He's sat in the corner of the couch, staring out of the window with an almost distant look in his eye, the wheelchair empty beside the seats. I want to walk over but my legs feel frozen, I'm locked in the doorway, staring at him with what must be the most overwhelming look of awe.

Phil turns his head ever so slightly and notices me. He smiles, the biggest smile I've seen in a while. I want to walk over, he's probably wondering why I haven't. I can't. I give myself a minute, my brain rushing through every little thing I want to say before I manage to put one foot in front of the other.

I don't know how, but I find myself sat besides him on the couch only five seconds later, both of us silent as we try to figure out where the fuck to begin.

"I just broke up with Quinn," Phil says, monotone. It was the last thing I expected to hear, my gut drops.

"Why?" I scoff, although part of me thinks I already know. I can only hope that part of me is right. 

"I think he deserves better than me," Phil explains. It wasn't the answer I wanted to hear, but it might be better for Quinn that way. "I think he needs somebody that can really love him."

"I thought you did." 

"I tried," He sighs, "You can't make yourself fall in love with someone, doesn't matter how wonderful they are, doesn't matter what they do for you. Just like you can't make yourself fall out of love with someone, doesn't matter how far away they go, doesn't matter what shitty things they do." 

Maybe I was right after all.

"Falling out of love with people is harder than falling in," I say, unsure what I'm supposed to respond. I don't want to say the wrong thing, so I'll only say the truth.

"I can't do either right," Phil mumbles, looking back out of the window. I put my hand on his leg, gentle but hoping to offer some sort of comfort. 

"Same here," I say, "If that makes you feel any better." I'm hoping he clicks on to what I mean. I'm hoping we're on the same page about this conversation. I wouldn't bet on it though, there's too much to lose.

"It does, actually," Phil replies, smiling a little. I take my hand off of his leg and awkwardly brush it on my jeans. "Nice knowing I'm not the only one, though you don't deserve to understand that sort of thing-"

"Nor do you," I cut in, "Nobody does. It's kind of out of anyone's control though."

"So what is it with you?" Phil asks, "Who are you trying to love?" 

"There's an endless list," I scoff, smiling at him. He grins back.

"They'd all be so lucky," He says, softly. It makes my stomach ache in a way I've never felt before. It makes me want to cry that he believes that. I'm not sure he's right, but if he believes that I'm happy. 

"Why's that?" I ask, honestly just begging for him to say more positive things about me. This will probably fuel me for a solid year. I don't remember ever feeling warmth like that before.

"Because you're the most wonderful person in the world," Phil responds, as if it's the most casual fact in the world. I almost gasp, instead just gulping and trying to prevent my face from turning too red. 

"I beg to fucking differ."

"Then you're also an idiot," Phil chuckles. I can feel myself welling up. This is too good to be true, far, far too good. "But who am I to judge?"

"You're no idiot," I say, shaking my head at him. He shrugs, looking down at the ground again. 

"Feel like one." 

"I wish I could change that," I tell him, "If there was anything I could have done-"

"You're doing all you can," Phil cuts in, "And you're doing enough by actually being here. In person. Finally." He's smiling again, staring at me as if I'm made of fucking gold. I forgot how good he made me feel, I forgot it was possible to feel this wonderful - how?

"I thought you didn't want to see me," I say, "I never let myself think that...I don't know...getting in touch again just seemed to good to be true." 

"It scared me too," He explains, "I tried to repress it. I thought if you came back into my life that everything would come flooding back and..." 

"Did it?" I ask, almost afraid of the answer.

"I don't think it ever left to begin with." Music to my fucking ears.

"Well I'm back now," I say, wondering what that is actually supposed to mean. I guess we'll find out, sooner or later.

"For good?" 

"For good."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like it's an understatement for me to sit here and say it's been a while. It's been almost two months, and for that I am extremely sorry. I won't go into it, but I've got a lot of things going on in my life and so writing has taken a backseat for me. I'm doing alright, nothing majorly bad going on, but sometimes I struggle to find the motivation to actually write and sometimes I'm just genuinely too busy. As well as this, when I do write, I often focus on my other works. I've been writing a few other stories, but none of them are fan fiction, just pure fiction. I prefer it, and they are much better/more realistic, however I don't think they're worth publishing on here because nobody would want to read about characters that are pure fiction on here, so maybe I'd change the names for the sake of readers. If any of you are still reading this, thank you, and I hope it's worth the wait. This story isn't dead to me, and I could not be more grateful for your patience and support. x


	42. Cluelessness

Quinn drove me home in silence. I didn't care, for some reason. Maybe that's selfish of me, to feel nothing for him. He was evidently in pain, whilst for the first time in a while I felt nothing but joy. 

"Thanks for the lift," I say as he pulls up outside my house. I can't exactly leave things this awkward though, I know that. Quinn is my only source of contact with Phil. "Will you be going to see him again?" 

"I don't know," Quinn says, blunt. 

"Would you be willing to take me through again?" It's cheeky of me to ask, but I have to. "I understand if you don't want to but I have no other way of seeing him and-"

"I'll take you," Quinn cuts in, "I'll stay in touch. I'll keep being nice. I'll do whatever, but don't for a second think that I'm doing it for you. This is for Phil. If you're going to make him happy, so be fucking it."

It wasn't the response I expected, not even close. Quinn is a blessing. I stare at him blankly, pure shock running through me, and he stares back, evidently upset. I want to say something, but I'm unable to find words to thank him.

"Don't look at me like that," Quinn snaps. I gulp, looking away. "Don't pity me, Dan. I should have known that this was coming." 

"I don't know what to say," I mumble, "I'm sorry-"

"Fuck off with the apologies," He says, "You don't have to say anything. You don't owe me shit." 

"I owe you almost everything," I argue, "I feel awful for everything, you deserve better-"

"I know that," Quinn spits, "But life is a bitch, and there's nothing anybody can do about that. Phil can't help how he feels. I can't change how I feel. You're stuck in the middle, doing no harm - so it's not even like I can hate you for this. It's just shit. It's all just shit. I know that, so save the explanations and the pity and the bullshit." 

There's a silence, a painful, crippling silence.

"You're a fucking great person, Quinn." I get out of his car, slamming the door way harder than I mean to, and walk away. Nothing more needs to be said. 

-

When I get home, I have several messages from my friends. Cat wants an update, Chris wants an update. PJ wants to know why I was outside his house earlier. And Dana wants to know if I'm up for a piss up at her house.

I ignore them all, except from the latter.

I don't think my parents will be a fan of me going out, but I need the distraction, hopefully they'll understand that. I'm not giving them the choice. Right now, my parents are out, I'm pretty sure they're at the local pub, seeing old friends or something of the sort.

I leave a note, pack a bag and leave for the night.

-

Dana doesn't live too far from me, so the walk is nice and easy. It gives me time to think, but not enough time to think myself into a state, because I know that's due. Today has been too much, I haven't had a minute to stop and process it all. I have Phil back. I have Phil back. I have Phil back.

That sounds false. It won't sink in. It can't sink in.

What am I going to do about Connor? 

The overthinking ends before it's even begun, as I reach Dana's house before I've truly thought it all through.

I didn't think to ask Dana who was going to be attending her gathering, that would have probably been a good idea. 

I knock on the door and it opens in the same second. I'm greeted by a clearly intoxicated Clarky. I'm not surprised that he's drunk at five o clock, but I am surprised he was invited again. I guess Dana is more considerate than she gets credit for.

"Why the fuck are you here?" Clarky scoffs. I frown, confused. Am I not supposed to be here?

"I could say the same to you," I retort, waiting awkwardly on the doorstep. "Dana did invite me." 

"I was joking," Clarky says, "Touchy, touchy-"

"Move Willy," Dana shouts from behind. Clarky steps to the side to reveal Dana walking down her hallway, grinning and holding a bottle of wine. "Come on in Dan!" 

"Who else is here?" I ask her, kicking my shoes off.

"Everyone," Dana says, "Minus a few for the sake of arguing." 

"Huh?" 

"Hilda isn't invited-"

"Connor?" I question, my biggest priority. He's the one I need to speak to, sooner rather than later. I started something knowing I couldn't finish it, but after the conversation with Phil, I know it has to be finished now. 

No more running back, no more stupid choices. Hopefully it's the last time I have to tell myself that. 

"He made it round, but he can't stay long because-"

"Where is he?" I don't care about the back story of his arrival, I just need to see him. 

"Kitchen," Dana says, "Go wild. No bumming in my room." I flash her a look. I had always been unsure about what she knew, but she's smarter than what people give her credit for. Maybe she always had us figured out. 

"You don't have to worry about that," I say, but I don't know if she hears me as I'm walking down the hallway. I barge into the kitchen to see Connor and Sam stood, they don't seem to be talking about anything important, as the conversation ends as soon as I enter the room.

"Hi Dan," Connor says. I smile and nod at him, he returns the gesture. "How are you?"

"Great, thanks," I say, lying through my teeth, "How are you two?" 

"Bored," Sam says, "Dana wouldn't let me bring my fucking speaker, how tight is that? Says it will disturb the neighbors, but she lives next door to a coke addict so I doubt a bit of bassline is going to bother him-"

"Yeah but it's an elderly coke addict," Connor cuts in, "You can't be that bored, you're still here." 

"Wanted to see Danny didn't I?" Sam winks at me. I smirk and wink back. "And it's free drink, so I'm not fucking off anytime soon." 

"Can't argue with that," I say. Connor nods along. Clarky enters the kitchen, grinning away at us all.

"I fully want to kiss Dana," He announces to us. My first reaction is laughter, Connor and Sam join in with it, but after a minute of Clarky giving us confused glances, I begin to realise he's serious. The laughing stops in unison. 

"Do it mate," Sam sneers, "Good luck to you." 

"Probably not the best idea," Connor counters, "What about Mackenzie?" 

"She doesn't want that," Clarky shrugs, "But Dana..." I don't know why he's under the impression Dana would want that, but I don't want to question it and knock his confidence. Maybe she's given him false hope without realising.

"Just because she calls you Willy, doesn't mean she wants your-" Connor doesn't finish his sentence. He doesn't need to. I laugh, but I didn't mean to. And that wasn't what interrupted him.

"I'm gonna prove you wrong," Clarky says, "Then see who's the virgin-"

"Always you," Sam says, "But go for it. Keep me updated. I'm rooting for it." 

"That's the fucking support I need," Clarky exclaims, grinning at Sam, then frowning and Connor and I. I smile at him, shaking my head. This is not going to end well, but I feel like it would be too funny to talk him out of, no matter which outcome he gets. 

Clarky grabs a beer and walks back out. Sam follows him, laughing to himself. Connor smiles when the door shuts and moves closer, I grab his elbow as he goes to hug me, stopping it before it starts. If I get roped in I won't have the guts to tell him later. I can't do that.

"We need to talk," I begin, taking a step backwards. He frowns. 

"Good or bad?" He asks, but we both know. 

"I don't know how to answer that question honestly," I tell him, "There's a lot we need to talk about." Connor's face falls. 

"I'm not gonna like this, am I?" 

"I'm sorry." What else can I say? I truly am sorry. This wasn't exactly how I planned for the day to go. This wasn't how I wanted anything to go, but how could I have known? It was the last curve ball I expected from life, so by default it was bound to happen. "Can we go somewhere more private?" 

"Fine." I follow him to the garden. It's small, too small for anyone else to want to come and join us. We sit on the bench against the brick wall, the only seating area on the patch of grass. There's silence to begin with. I'm not exactly sure how or where to begin. 

"We weren't going to last anyway," Connor says, "It was pure wishful thinking." 

"Doesn't mean it's not sad," I reply, "I am sad about it, don't think I don't care about you. I just...I can't let go of Phil. I never could."

"I think I knew that," He admits, "Deep down. I was scared of it, anyway, and I'm not usually the insecure type." 

"So this isn't a surprise?" 

"You always surprise me," Connor scoffs, "But this? Inevitable." There's a painfully long pause. We both know he's right. Connor and I were always just wishful thinking, always just ideal, always just something to hold onto. It wasn't as raw or as real as it was with Phil, I just wanted it to be. Wishful thinking, because I always knew deep down it wasn't meant to be. It kind of makes it all feel worthless now, like it was for nothing. Everything he and I went through, everything I put PJ through.

For nothing.

"We had a good time," I say, trying to look on the bright side. Optimism is key, I guess.

"Doesn't mean it's not sad," He repeats, borderline mocking me. I gulp. This conversation may be harder than I originally anticipated. "I'm not even sad we're done. I think I'm just sad it's because of him. Like, we'll never try for ourselves. I'll never know what could have been-"

"Nothing could have been," I cut in, probably sounding harsher than intended, "It was always going to be him. Always." 

"So where does that leave me?" He asks. "Do you think we could be friends? Is that what you want?" 

"Are you alright with that set up?" I don't think I am. I don't think it would practical anyway, he's off at Parks. We wouldn't see each other. It would be forced.

"I don't think that would be helpful," Connor sighs, "I don't know. I'm sick of trying to work out what's for the best because I'm always fucking wrong." 

"Nobody knows what's for the best," I say, "Not even I know. I could be walking into the worst decision of my life. I could be making a huge mistake right now. Maybe I'm always going to live to regret this entire thing. But I'm still young and I'm still learning and I'm not going to know until I decide on something and give it a shot. Everything happens as it's supposed to, Con. We're both going to be okay." 

The last sentence wasn't something I knew for sure. I knew nothing at all, but there comes a point where you have to let life teach you in its own little weird ways. 

You can't guess the right answer every time.

"You better be right, Howell."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every time I update, I tell myself I'll get back into it and be quicker and write more and better and faster. I didn't. It's been almost three months, and for that I can't apologise enough. There won't be many of you still interested, understandably, but for those that are, I present to you another chapter. It's coming to a close now, which makes me sad but also gives me a lot of relief. I'm not good at sticking to schedules and to put it simply, I'm a mess. I can't promise the end will be soon but it's definitely coming. Thank you all for keeping me motivated, your comments are the only reason I'm still bothering with this. It really does mean the world, and I promise next time I won't lose my passion for the things I write for you.


	43. Happy Endings?

****

**Six months later**

"You were right, Howell." 

Connor and I don't speak much anymore. We don't see each other often, so there's no real need.

Tonight is different though. We got our GCSE results. Dana threw a party. And I'm sat in the same position I was six months earlier, right down to the date.

The garden is empty again, I only came out to call Phil, but Con came out as soon as I hung up the phone. Probably for nostalgia's sake. 

"Right about what?" I'm never usually right. Connor sits down on the bench next to me. 

"You said we'd be okay," He explains, "I didn't believe you at the time. I didn't believe you for a long time after. But you were right. Eventually. We are okay, aren't we?" He's slightly intoxicated, but he's making sense. For once.

"Brilliant," I agree. "How were your results?" I haven't spoken to him yet tonight. I didn't plan on it. We tend to avoid each other, and I usually stick round Dana and Clarky, who are attached at the hip now that they're together - a thing nobody predicted but everybody supports. I chill with PJ too, but we're not so close anymore. Things were weird, beyond weird, after he found out about Phil. I don't think either of us handled it well, but we're okay now. He's got other friends, better friends now.

Mack is still in love with Connor. I don't think that is ever going to fully fade, and my heart breaks for her. She's convinced he's the one, even knowing there isn't a hope in hell for them. Connor doesn't make it easier for her though, they're still the best of friends, even with him at Parks, they stayed close. 

He's seeing someone else now though, so things are less awkward with us. I'm glad he's moved on, it kind of takes away some of the guilt. His new boyfriend is sweet, but I've only met him once at Sam's last party, and Freddy punched him in the face, so we didn't really get to mingle properly before he left. Despite that, Freddy still claims to be over Connor. I tell him that I believe him. It's an easy lie.

"I got all A's," Connor replies, "One B, but that was in maths, I expected it." 

"Dreadful," I mock, smirking. It's no surprise, he was always smart, and Parks is a good school.

"How about you?" He asks. I feel like I've been over this too many times today, the amount of people I've had to tell was quite extensive.

"Four Bs, an A and five C's," I say, "Not quite as impressive as yours." But good enough. I've got into the college I need to. That's good enough for me. 

"Decent," Connor shrugs.

"To say I didn't try," I agree. I could've done better, there's no denying it. I just had other priorities, and I don't have a single regret about that. "I don't even care. My parents are a bit annoyed though. They seem to think it was Phil that fucked it up for me both times. They say he's a distraction." 

"They're not wrong," Connor says, and he's right. I never said I didn't agree with my parents. I'm just saying I don't care.

"There's such thing as a welcome distraction," I explain, "Not much else matters to me." Not much else needs to.

"I take it things are going well then." 

"Somehow," I say, "Yeah. They are." And it's better than I ever let myself imagine. 

Strangely enough, my parents were okay with it. They were upset, to begin with, but they seem to be accepting the fact that they can't stop me. I think my Mum is kind of annoyed with herself for trying. Love can't be stopped. We all learnt that the hard way.

Still, things aren't perfect. Phil's parents don't take the same stance as mine. They're cruel and bitter, but we tolerate it. He needs them, sadly. There are perks to that though, they paid for Phil's driving lessons and a car, so he has much more independence. He doesn't rely on them like he once had to. And I benefit from that too, obviously. 

We don't see each other as much as I'd like, but I go to stay with him most weekends, something I never expected to be allowed. At first, I'd lie and say I was staying at Clarky's or something, but my parents eventually caught on when they saw Phil dropping me off at the bottom of the street. They weren't as pissed off as I expected, thankfully.

We're both busy during the week, Phil found a part time job, and he's always studying too. I usually just chill with my friends through the week, and we video chat whenever we can. It's not perfect, but I'd have taken anything this time last year. I'm grateful, beyond grateful.

Quinn still checks in every now and then, but only ever with the purest of intention. He's a good person, and I'm happy for him to be around. I owe him a lot, but he insists I don't. 

Cat and Chris come to see us every now and then too. Cat still struggles with drug abuse, but she gets better and worse. We do what we can, but there isn't much. I don't like remembering what she was once like, it's scary. I still get flashbacks though. 

They probably won't ever stop. The doctors believe I have some warped form of PTSD. They're repeating themselves now, as if I've remembered everything I could. I don't mind though, sometimes it's nice to relive it. To feel things again. 

Other times, less so. But I'm grateful I remember anything at all, there was a time I didn't think that would be possible. 

Everything changes though, life will never ever go exactly how we want or expect. I'm trying to find a way to deal with that. 

"I'm happy for you," Connor says, "I really am."

"Thank you," I say, "What about you? How's your thing?" I can't remember his boyfriend's name, but he doesn't seem to care. 

"George is great," Connor tells me, but he doesn't sound convinced, "Doesn't do a thing wrong - not ever. So loving, so kind, so funny. He's wonderful, truly. He uh, told me that he loved me the other day. I was pretty shocked." Shocked isn't the first word that should be used in that context, not if things are well. When Phil told me he loved me, yes, I was shocked, but before that I was ecstatic. I was overjoyed. I was amazed. 

"Do you love him?" I ask, but I already know the answer.

"No," He admits, "I wish I did. I wish I knew how." It's raw truth, and that's always been hard for Connor, but he has always lied to himself more than anyone else. This, I believe, is impossible to lie to yourself about. You can act like you love someone, you can tell yourself it as much as you want, but you'll always just know. If it's not there, it's not there. Love can't be conjured from nothing. Love can't be forced.

"It isn't your fault," I tell him, because he needs to know that. You can't help how you feel. It's not like he doesn't care for his boyfriend at all, just not as much as he intended to. 

"Maybe not," Connor says, "But I need to end things with him soon. We're going to different colleges anyway, and even if we weren't, he deserves better than me. He deserves more than I can ever give him."

"At least you're aware," I shrug. It doesn't make the situation any easier, but the sooner it's done the better, for both parties involved. "And you're handling it well."

"I'm really not," He scoffs, before taking another sip of his drink. He probably shouldn't have another bottle, but it definitely wouldn't surprise me if he has another three. "You have no idea."

"So tell me then dickhead," I say, laughing. He turns his head, then grins at me. I grin back, raising my eyebrows to prompt a response, but his smile simply falls. 

"It's not a laughing matter, Dan," He says, "I am truly awful." 

"You cheat?" I ask. It's the first possibility that comes to mind. Connor simply nods. I sigh, thinking of who it could have been with. I don't know how many other gay boys Connor knows, Parks could be overflowing with them for all I know. I take a guess anyway. "With Freddy?"

"History repeats itself," Connor mutters. He's not wrong. I want to pity him, I want to be mad at him, I want to feel something for him. But I don't. The situation, this time, is meaningless to me. Maybe that's not fair or right or good of me. They're my friends, I'm supposed to care. But I'm half glad I have no emotional response. 

It means I'm over it all. It means there's nothing left. Not that I ever thought there was, but it's the confirmation. 

"What happened?" I question, out of curiosity above care. 

"Shagged him," Connor says, somehow sounding emotionless, "Finally. Was definitely worth the wait. I just don't want to feel guilty about it anymore. And George knows, that's the worst part. He doesn't even care, just doesn't want me to leave him for Fred."

"Are you going to?" I remember Connor telling me that they were done with each other, that the spark was gone. Once again, I believe he was lying to himself. They were never finished with each other. 

"It's inevitable, isn't it?" I nod, but our conversation is disrupted by Dana popping her head out of the kitchen window. 

"Come back inside twats," She calls out, smiling. We do as she says, and I immediately go to Clarky when I get back inside. He's dancing, and I grab his hands to join. 

I think he's still the same William I met a year ago, deep down, the only major change being his lack of acne and virginity now. He's still weird and funny and ginger. He's still the butt of most jokes, but maybe a little less now. Dana claims she's the only one allowed to take the piss out of him. Not that it stops us all that much.

I'm stilling dancing with Clarky (badly, at that) when Mack approaches me, grinning. "I think Phil is here for you!" I told them all he was coming to pick me up early. Everyone got very excited, they don't meet him that often.

"Oh great," I say, "Guess I'll see you tomorrow then Clarky?"

"Goodbye," He says, "Have fun bumming-"

"You're gross," Mack scoffs, nudging him. I just laugh. If Clarky's comments bothered me that much we wouldn't still be friends with the amount he makes. It's harmless, and occasionally entertaining. "See you Dan."

"Bye!" 

I pretty much run to the car, failing to say goodbye to anyone else. Dana is stood outside, talking to Phil through the car window. She seems to really love him, and I think he's a fan of hers. I hope so, it's weird seeing them communicate, as if two alternate worlds have collided. 

"Please come in for a bit," Dana is saying, "Just have a soft drink and a boogie!" 

"I'd love to," Phil says, "But the table is booked, we really can't be late. Next time, yeah? I promise!" 

"I'm gonna hold you to that," Dana tells him, "I'll get you a lemonade ready for the next event, yeah?"

"I can't wait lovely," He says. I raise my eyebrows at him. He's not the most social person ever, but I appreciate him trying with my friends.

"We're gonna get going," I say to Dana, "Thanks for having me, and well done again on your results!" We hug goodbye.

"You too," She whispers, mid-embrace, "Have fun tonight. Wear protec-" I knee her. She laughs and we pull away, smirking.

"See you tomorrow," I say. She nods.

"You certainly will."

With that, I get into the car. Phil leans over, giving me a soft kiss on the cheek, then ruffling my hair. "You stink of booze." 

"I promise I'm not drunk," I say again, we had this conversation on the phone twenty minutes ago. He did ask me if I was pissed on the phone, I told him no, which is the truth. I know Phil didn't want me to get in a state before our meal. 

"Alright," He says, smirking at me, "I believe you, this time."

"Might not be so sober next time," I tell him, "Not if you're swinging by-"

"I'm only having a soft drink and a boogie!" Phil cuts in, laughing. He sets off, waving goodbye to Dana, who still appears to be stood in the doorway watching us. 

"That's code for twelve shots and a vom," I snort. "With this lot anyway."

"Do they just drink?" He asks. I know he's thinking about Cat.

"Yeah," I say, "I don't think any of them are bothered about other things. It's not something they'd be tough enough to get caught up in, and there aren't those kind of people around here." Not that I know of, anyway.

"Maybe Cat would be better up here then," Phil suggests, but he says it quietly, as if uncertain, "Away from it all, you know?"

"I guess," I say, uncertain of where he's going with this. It seems a bit random, we don't really talk about Cat's problem all that much. I wanted to leave it in the past, ignore it as much as possible. "Why? Is she thinking of coming up again?"

"No, actually," Phil says, "It was just a thought I had. The new apartment's going be incredibly weird on my own, and you can't stay all the time. I just thought maybe-"

"It's a good idea," I cut in, "She'd probably love it."

"I'm not sure," Phil mutters. 

"Talk to her about it," I say, "Maybe suggest Chris comes too. I don't know. I can't see why it would be a bad idea. It's not like they have much to stay in Manchester for." It wasn't exactly the most exciting place to live down there, not in the places we lived anyway. It was dull and repetitive. I remember Cat saying she felt isolated there, she hated it. 

I think that was why she started doing what she did. It was simply escapism that escalated. 

"As long as you're okay with the idea," Phil says, "I wouldn't want a change like that to happen if you weren't going to be completely comfortable with it." I smile at him.

"Whatever you want I want," I shrug, pretending like it's not completely cringeworthy. If my friends heard me say that I'd never live it down. 

"I love you," He says, and it's like music to my ears. We say it every day, but that doesn't make it any less meaningful. 

"I love you too," I whisper, leaning my head against the window. A wave of drowsiness comes over me. It must be the drink, I haven't felt like this in forever, but it's a familiar feeling.

"You alright Danny?" Phil asks, reaching over and putting a hand on my leg. I nod, but that's all I can manage to do. My eyes feel better shut, my head is spinning too much to open them. "Dan? Danny?"

I know what's happening.I know that all too well, and I let it happen because I know I can't stop it. 

I know that all too well. 

Connor was right. History will never, ever, stop repeating itself.

"Dan?" Phil is saying, panic so clear in his voice. He has never seen this happen before. I never wanted him to. I can feel myself drifting out, a phone begins to ring in the background, and Phil is still screaming my name. 

I can't tell what's real and what isn't. I don't care.

"DAN?" He's shouting now. But he can't do anything. He's driving. He's driving. And I don't know where we are going. I don't know anything. 

Except now my eyes are open again, and I have no idea where we are. 

_"Dan let me-" He's saying something, but I'm not listening, trying to grab for his phone. He shouldn't have it in his hand whilst he's driving! It panics me. I manage to get hold of the edge, and Phil gives in, releasing it. "Don't answer it Dan they're- fuck!"_

_"What were you going to-" I look back up, curious as to where the sudden 'fuck' has come from. "Fuck!"_

_I'm screaming, Phil is yelling and slamming down on the brakes, but he's too slow, or the other car is too fast._

_I shut my eyes, refusing to watch as the two cars collide, instead feeling the huge jolt followed by shards and shards of glass scattering across me._

_Instinctively, I open my eyes again, just as a third car knocks into Phil's side. I'm still screaming, but Phil suddenly stops and my own breath is taken for a split second as the car is knocked, the impact sending us flying back and back._

_I feel nothing but pure panic._

_The car is rolling back, it's not stopping. I'm screaming again. I look to Phil, for a split second, my heart hammering in my chest as I fear it might be the last time. He's so pale, so soft, eyes closed and mouth open as if he wants to scream. I'm screaming loud enough for the both of us. His right side is covered in blood, but I can't look at him long enough to know where it's come from, the smashed window is a big enough clue._

_The image is burned into my mind. I won't ever forget it, how he looks at this moment. Dead. But he can't be. Not my Phil._

_The car suddenly stops, and I jolt forward once again, harder, and suddenly I can feel every bone in my body. It's silent, my desperate breaths the only thing around. I can barely get them out, my head too light to focus on pacing my breaths._

_I'm panicking, but I'm too..._

_Too something..._

_I can't scream. I can't sob. I can barely move. My head is hurting more and more by the second, each passing one feeling minutes longer._

_I look to the side one last time._

_There's something running down my forehead. I can't go to wipe it. I turn back, the image burnt into my mind, and then my eyes close again. Involuntary._

_I hear the phone ringing again, one last time._

_And then nothing._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. 
> 
> I could've probably ended it better, I'm not going to lie, this was slightly rushed. There's no fair excuse for that.
> 
> I started writing this in January 2016, over two years ago. I had high hopes for this story because I had so much love for the idea. I would write at least 200 characters every night when I first started drafting, and slowly that became less and less. I start publishing this in July 2016, when I still adored the story. Without going into depth, things in my life changed in that time (obviously). I took a time out from writing, and when I came back I felt refreshed, I was buzzing to keep this story going, and I feel I managed to revive it somewhat. Shortly after, I continued drafting and kept getting bored or distracted. My social life picked up, I started smoking weed and became much less motivated (my own fault). Now we're talking mid 2017. I took another break. At this point, I barely even watched any of the youtubers in the story, and when I came back to writing, I hated using their names. I began writing other stories, completely inventing my own characters. They were much better, somehow, and whenever I did find myself in the mood to write, I would just go straight to them, because they gave me the same wonderful pride that this story once gave me. I had to force myself to look at this, to rewrite the drafts, to develop the plot, to decide where I was going to go with it. I settled on this. I don't personally, feel like this does my younger self justice. I had better endings planned, I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Sadly, I'm burnt out with this story. But I did love it, and I want you all to love it, because knowing it was bringing joy to just a couple of people was enough for me, and always will be enough for me. I will continue posting on here, so watch this space! But for now, I really do hope you enjoyed this journey, it's been a long one and I'm genuinely sorry I can't give you a better end. All the love - Bandfic. x


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